


The Dust Never Truly Settles

by BoltedBee, JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Bonding, Cannibalism, Drug Addiction, F/M, Gen, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Misogyny, Non-Canon Characters treated as minor OCs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Schizophrenia, Vaginal Sex, Violence, respawn malfunction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoltedBee/pseuds/BoltedBee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herein valuable life lessons are learned and then promptly ignored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost after making some alterations to my account.
> 
> Fic written by "co-author", I'm the editor/contributor.
> 
> For clarity, these are the canon mercs:  
> RED Scout  
> BLUSoldier  
> RED Pyro  
> RED Demo  
> BLU Heavy  
> BLU Engineer  
> BLU Medic  
> BLU Sniper  
> BLU Spy

The cab was hot and uncomfortable at best. An old crooner sang about lost love, the noise staticky through rusted speakers. Two people sat; a lanky male with a baseball cap and a bat at his hip and a female in tan pants, her own hat - a wide-brimmed and heavily decorated akubra - pulled down over her eyes. The train lurched and the male covered his mouth.

"Oh gawd. I think I'ma lose muh lunch," he grumbled, shifting in his seat. He looked around for something to hold on to in case the train decided to shake like that again. "How you holdin' up, toots?"

The female lifted one arm slightly from its position, crossed over her chest, to raise the brim of her hat with her thumb. She raised a dark eyebrow at the green-looking young man.

"I am fine. You look ill," she said, speaking slowly. She tried to keep her accent from her voice.

"Heh," he chuckled, stopping and frantically searching for something to hold on to once more as the train shook. He clutched the sorry excuse for a cushion under him. "Gawd, I hate trains," he muttered. "You look fine," he said, sizing the girl up. "What's yer secret, eh?"

She shrugged and let the hat fall down over her eyes again, returning her arms to the crossed position. She had planned on spending the train ride asleep, but the talkative male to her right seemed intent on not letting that happen. He stared at her quizzically. Her lips pulled into a frown as he continued to stare and fidget.

"Shrimp and potatoes," she said sarcastically.

"Whut?" he asked, letting his jaw hang open slightly.

The female sighed and pushed her hat up again. Ivy-colored eyes studied the male harshly and he almost shrunk away from her gaze. She thought it possible that the boy could be a decade her junior and she did not want to make small talk with the runt. When blue eyes blinked cutely at her, she scoffed and looked away, deciding to watch light pass by the poorly painted-over windows.

"It was sarcasm," she said plainly.

"You got an accent. Where ya from?" he asked, shifting his backpack at his side.

"You 'ave one too," the female stated. As he opened his mouth to speak, she interrupted; "But where does it look like I'm from?"

"Well, uh, yer clothes say yer an Aussie, but yer accent don't soun' quite right... I mean, I always thought you people were all 'croikey!' an' 'g'day mate!'," he mimicked terribly. He looked at the female and found her glaring at him. He then realized how racist he had sounded. "I didn' mean 'you people' like, well, shit." He sighed and studied his kicking feet.

They reached the floor comfortably, but he bounced his heels to help ease the awkward tension he'd created.

"You are from New York?" she asked.

"Close 'nuff,” he said, pretending he wasn’t insulted. “Massachusetts. Boston. Go Sox," he added a slight cheer and cast a shy glance in her direction.

"Mm. Northern Europe," she said coolly, though her smirk didn't fade.

"That's real specific," the boy said, trying his hand at sarcasm.

A silence passed between the two, the female smirking over her minor victory in shutting the chatty boy up as she crossed her legs. The male played with the wrappings on his hands until he thought of another question.

"Ya like baseball?"

"No." He flinched at how quick her response was. He leaned an elbow heavily on one knee.

"So whaddya do?" he asked.

"I kill things," she said, still smirking.

"Well no shit?" he asked and then scoffed. "I mean how...?"

The female merely pointed up. The boy's eyes followed her gesture up to a rusted storage rack. On it sat the most well-maintained sniper rifle he'd ever laid eyes on. He whistled at the sleek weapon.

"Awf'ly big gun for such a little gurl," he said, smirking.

"I'm probably taller than you, shrimp," she deadpanned.

He stiffened and mentally cursed.

"And you?" she asked, wiggling the toes of one foot impatiently.

"I run. 'N I hurt people. Wit' dis!" He proudly brandished his baseball bat. His cheerful expression soured when she laughed.

"I heard'a bringin' a knife to a gun fight, but that's... ridiculous!"

"Man, fine! See if I save yer ass!" He was pouting and it only made the female laugh more.

It wasn't long before the train slowed to a halt. To the youth, it felt more like the world has suddenly stopped moving around him and he kept going, falling off his seat. The female held her stomach with laughter. One grumbling male and one chuckling female were ushered off the train after gathering their things. They were met by a man in a red jacket and an almost comedically oversized helmet.

"Fall in line, maggots!" he roared. The boy flinched and the woman raised a delicate eyebrow. Moments later they were standing side by side in front of the man with a touch of volume control issues. "Now here at- what the? They're sending me girls now?" He even seemed to roar when talking to himself.

Her glare didn't seem to do anything to the helmeted man so she adjusted the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and waited for him to continue.

"The battlefield is no place for a woman!" he shouted. She rolled her eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me, maggot! I am in charge here, understood?"

"Yeah, sure," the young man said. "Can we go now?"

"You will call me Soldier," the coated man instructed. "I will call you maggot and-" he paused for a moment to consider his words "-magette!" He seemed proud of himself.

"Bully!" the female whispered sarcastically.

"The others will most likely call you by your titles, Scout and Sniper," Soldier said, his arms behind his back. "But here-"

"Look, pops," the hatted male started in, "I'm a merc, not on'a yer in-fun-tree or whateva, so just show me where I can store my shit, okay?"

"Confident," Soldier said, lowering his voice and nodding. "But stupid!" he shouted, whacking the boy's backside with a riding crop. The boy yelped and protested his treatment loudly.

All the way to their quarters - including the ride from the train station in a nondescript van, which was just as hot as the train - they were lectured about the rules. They were informed of "how things work around here" as Soldier put it. Including, but not limited to: the respawn system, when supplies came, and how to order them.

It was after sunset by the time the brunette female was shown her room and when she was, she slipped in and locked the door behind her, stopping Soldier mid-sentence. When the shouts and loud footfalls left the area, she set about unpacking her things. Once satisfied, she considered stepping to the kitchen to sample the local cuisine. Gently pushing her rifle under her bed, she took to the hall and sought out the kitchen.

"Oi, whasat 'ere? A lass in our kitchen? Did they send oos a cook or 'ave we goot a new docta?" said a tall, dark-skinned man with an eye patch. The other people at the table turned to look.

The Sniper glared, dark pink lips turning down in a frown as four stares looked at her expectantly. Her left eye twitched a bit. She opened her mouth to throw a mean retort at the man, but snapped it closed when a low, melodic chuckle sounded behind her.

"Goodness, if we would be so lucky, uh?" said an older, blonde gentleman in a lab coat as he approached. His sideburns were graying and thin, oval frames perched on a sharp nose. "She is... our new Sniper, I presume?" He put his bare hand on her shoulder and she nodded before shrugging off his hand. He raised a brow, accentuating his wrinkles before chuckling. "I am the doctor around he'a. Most call me Medic. V-what shall I call you?" he asked, flinching at the slip of his accent.

"The Sniper," she said.

"Very well," the blonde doctor said, turning to the staring men at the table. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Engineer," the Medic gestured to a man in a hardhat, who waved and nodded slightly in response. "This is Heavy," he gestured to a rather large man.

"Welcome, leetle Sniper. I am Heavy Weapons guy," he said, giving her a goofy smile.

"Zat," the Medic said, turning Sniper's attention to a man in a suit, sitting a little distance away from the others, a cigarette in hand, "is our Spy."

" _Oui_ , it ees a pleasure to meet such a... beautiful and dangerous woman," the masked man stood up and paced over to them, extending his hand to the female. She glared at it and then looked up at him.

A grin spread across her lips. She spit in her hand and took the Spy's, shaking it firmly. Her expression grew happier at the horrified look on the masked man's face. The other men at the table laughed and even the Medic at her side chuckled.

"Now that's a real handshake!" Engineer cooed.

"Yes, she is manly leetle Sniper!" Heavy put in.

Spy took his hand back and wiped it on his pants before stuffing it in his pocket.  "I must... bid you _adieu_ , for it is late." And with that, made his hasty retreat to a chorus of laughter.

"Ahm Demoman, lassie. Ahm sorreh for insultin' ye earlia. Y'just don't see many women who can han'le a gun," he extended his hand which held a bottle. "Am ey forgiven?" he asked as Engineer got up to tend to the food he was working on.

"This time," Sniper said, sliding into the Engineer's prewarmed seat. "What's for dinner?"

"Beef stew, tonight," Engineer said. He whistled a tune as he stirred the pot.

"There is one more, assuming you talked to the Scout on the way here," the Medic trailed off as the girl looked from the stove to him. "Ah yes, don't be alarmed if you see a young man in a strange suit and gas mask. Is only our resident pyromaniac. He will not hurt you." Nervous chuckles arose from the table. "Do no mind them. If you are nice, Pyro is nice."

"'Nice' my ass," came a grumble. Medic rolled his eyes.

"You ver- were shown where the medbay is, yes?" She nodded in response. "Good, zen-" he stopped and sighed. He was having a hard time with his words today. "I will need to give you a physical and fit you with a tracking device so I can find you on the field when you need me... But that can be taken care of en ze morning. Enjoy your night and it v-was a pleasure meeting you." He nodded and turned to accept a bowl of stew from Engineer. He nodded to the man and stalked off.

There was a short period of silence as Engineer passed out bowls of beef stew to everyone and placed a plate of oven warmed buns in the middle of the table. The southerner pulled Spy's chair back to the table and sat in it. He looked at the female who watched awkwardly as the others ate. Demoman even poured a bit of Scrumpy in the mixture and stirred it up.

Noticing the petite Sniper's funny look, he explained; "Gives oot a bit more flavor. 'E tends ta make stews a bit bland."

"It's not my fault the alcohol has damaged your taste buds, bud."

"Well it's me turn ta cook temara and I'll show ye a real man's dish!"

They playfully hassled each other and the new Sniper hesitantly took a bit of the stew.

"Not bad," she said under her breath.

...

Nights at the BLU base were usually quiet. The occasional clang or clatter would sound from Medic’s lab or loud snoring from Heavy would break the almost tangible silence. Though, for a few members of the squad, sleep was elusive.

The Sniper, for one, would often sit in the kitchen by oil lamp light, the overhead turned off as to not disturb the others. Hat and shades placed neatly on the table beside his hands that would hold a warm cup of tea.

Sometimes the team’s demolitions expert – a blonde woman in her late thirties – would join him, her unruly curls pulled back in a low, sloppy, tangled ponytail. The woman was missing two and a half of her front bottom teeth; the half tooth that remained was sickly gray color due to improper care of the broken bit. But she provided pleasant conversation in a low, quiet tone, suppressing her mixed accents. He could never pinpoint where the accentuated a's came from and his raising deemed it inappropriate to ask such personal questions of a lady, even though she didn’t much act like one.

“RED ‘as new recruits,” the Australian spoke softly as the female prepared coffee on the stove.

“I heard, yah,” she spoke quietly. “I heard Soldier talking about it earlier.” Her words were slow and drawn out. It made her sound slow-witted, but the sharpshooter knew better. He assumed she was ashamed of her mixed heritage and wanted to hide it. “He was ranting about how women do not belong on the battlefield. Except Miss Pauling, he said. That is, until I walked in," a short pause. "I think he loves her.”

Sniper smiled over the rim of his cup at the thought of the boisterous man falling silent when the female made her presence known. Perhaps he even blushed a little. That would be just dandy for the Aussie. It was their little secret that Demoman – she insisted that the “wo” was unnecessary – drank her coffee with sugar. She always drank it black in front of the others. He never understood why, even after she explained. She claimed that sweet things were feminine and she did not want to be seen as such. That pattern made no sense to Sniper. He drank his tea with honey and if coffee was more convenient, as it often was, he loaded it with sugar. He did not think of himself as feminine, despite his love of sweet things.

“I envy you tomorrow,” she said, taking a seat next to the Sniper.

“Ah yeah? Why’s that?” he asked.

“You get a balcony seat to view the chaos. You remember how it was when I first showed up, don’t you?” She grinned before taking a sip of the dark liquid.

“’Eah,” he responded and chuckled softly. “They weren’t sure what to make of you.”

“A bunch of bumbling oafs. Our side, too. Zhey didn’t think I could handle myself on the field. So many hesitations. I didn’t learn what the hell it was to respawn for three days,” she said with a dark chuckle.

“If yer still getting’ sick ova respawn’n you should see th’ doc,” he looked mildly concerned.

She grunted in response and glared at him half-heartedly. “Nngh,” she grunted.

Not a moment later the soft sounds of bare feet padding on the floor met their ears as another member of the insomnia club joined them. Demoman lit a cigarette from the open flame of the lamp, the cyclone having been broken and tossed long ago.

A mop of brown hair appeared around the corner, dark grey shades reflecting the lamp light as the young pyromaniac gazed at the open flame restlessly. He wore only a white t-shirt and blue knee-length shorts. White scars and burn marks littered his arms, a few spattered on his neck that the loose shirt revealed. After a moment, he took off his shades and threw them on the table. He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat across from the other two. He grunted a meeting.

“’Ello,” Sniper said softly. “It’s rare to see you so,” he paused to consider his words, “casually dressed.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” came the simple reply. “Didn’t feel like getting dressed.” The young man shrugged and looked back to the flame, squinting a bit.

“Soldier will be up in two hours,” Demoman threw out. Pyro rolled his eyes.

“New rivals,” Sniper said. “One’s a bird,” he said with a hopeful inflection. He wanted to draw the quiet male into speaking more.

"A bird?" Pyro asked.

"A girl," Sniper’s response.

“That’s nice,” he said though his tone said he didn’t care. He stopped to think about it for a moment. “Actually, that could be good. Women generally have more hair, which is very flammable.”

Sniper let a chuckle pass his lips. That wasn’t the type of conversation he’d hoped to draw the boy into. He took the cigarette when the blonde handed it to him and took a long drag. The Pyro watched the tip glow before looking elsewhere.

The three sat in a somewhat comfortable silence, enjoying their respective beverages as Sniper and Demoman passed the fag back and forth.

Two hours passed in relative silence. Four more butts joined the first one in the ash tray and Demoman made a new pot of coffee. As predicted, Soldier was the first to join them in the kitchen with a greeting of “Good morning, boys!”. He poured himself some coffee and leaned against the counter. He was dressed pristinely and standing tall. It was a sore irritation to the three sitting at the table. Pyro had his shades back on. Even so, he was squinting.

The team’s Scout; a cute blonde with freckles – hurried into the room, skidding to a stop in front of the refrigerator. He wrenched the door open and grabbed a can of soda. He popped the tab and took a long swig of the beverage. A bracelet with large, wooden beads rattled against the can. “Ahh!” The boy sounded refreshed. “Good mo’nin!” he said to no one in particular. The boy chugged the rest of the can and crushed it between his hands. He threw it at Soldier and it bounced off of the older man’s helmet as he hurried outside for his morning run. Soldier grumbled.

Their Engineer was next to enter the room and thanked the female for the coffee, pouring himself a cup. After a few sips of the caffeinated jump-start, he started preparing his own breakfast. Sniper excused himself and Pyro followed suit. Soldier gave Demoman orders to hunt down the new “maggot girl” herself, and just when she was about to protest, Heavy entered the room.

“Unh, good mornink,” he muttered, sounding almost as if he had the beginnings of a slight cold.

Engineer gestured to a glass of milk already poured for the larger man. Heavy took it with a nod and a pleased grunt.

“I should not have to go out of my way to track down this new foe,” Demoman said, lighting a new cigarette. “If I come across her, I will cut her head off, but I’m not going to hunt her down just because she is female.”

“It’s your duty, magg-“ he paused for a second, “woman!”

Demoman stood up, the chair screeching loud as it skidded back. Engineer turned around and Heavy watched with interest.

“Is zhat all yu see in me?!” she shouted, her accent slipping. She radiated anger and Engineer thought about stepping between them. “Haff I not proven myzelf to you yet?” Receiving no immediate response, she stormed from the room. Engineer sighed and turned back to his cooking.

“Must be on the rag,” Soldier grumbled. "Has she been getting enough meat lately?"


	2. Chapter 2

When she woke up, the RED Sniper groaned. There was a slight pain in her neck. This did not bode well for her first day of combat. She sat up and looked around the room. She'd tried to personalize it a bit last night, but it was just so plain still. She dressed in silence and brushed her hair. She pulled the brunette locks back into a low bun and put on her hat. She stopped for a second and appeared deep in thought. She took off the hat and placed it on her desk. She headed out her door and made her way to the medbay.

"Ahh! Fukin' A, ya tryn’a kill me, doc?!" came the shriek of a familiar voice behind the door. Sniper was torn between laughing and being afraid. She wondered if she would be screaming like that soon.

"Oh, come now! This is barely a pinch!" came that melodic voice from last night.

The Bostonian screamed again, sounding as if he were in agony. Now the words inside were more muted. They sounded like mumbles. A few minutes later a very flustered runner threw the door open. A blonde doctor stood at the doorway as the smaller man stalked off. Smirking.

"That boy," the blonde said, shaking his head. "Well, good morning, Sniper." He turned to look at the woman, gesturing for her to come inside. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, patting the table as a silent order for her to sit on it. He opened her folder, merely marked by her title. He sighed as her name was painted over in black ink and wondered why it would be so bad for him to know her name.

"I guess. My pillow fell off my bed and I have a bit of a pain in my neck, but other than that, my sleep was fine," she said with a nod, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Alright. May I ask your name? You don't have to tell me if you don't wish, I am just curious. We all have our secrets, so I'd understand if you don't van't to share," he rambled and suddenly stopped, laughing nervously.

"No," she said and upon seeing hurt cross the older man's features, she quickly added; "Sorry."

"No, no!" he said, holding his free hand up. "There is no need to apologize!" He forced out another laugh. He closed the folder and set it down on a nearby tray table. "Okay, to vork," he said, slipping on a pair of latex gloves. He took a pair of tweezers in one hand and a petri dish in the other. He plucked a tiny thing that looked like a miniature pill from it. He held it up so she could see. "This is a tracking device; it will be injected under your skin. I will let you choose where." He nodded, putting the dish, chip and tweezers down. The girl lifted her hair and gestured to the back of her neck. Medic looked up from loading the special syringe to see the location she chose. He moved behind her and brought the device to the back of her neck, "This will feel about like getting a piercing, and seeing as your eyebrow is pierced, you should know what it is like,” he said.

She opened her mouth to respond; only a small breathy grunt leaving her as her flesh was pierced. She let her hair down when the doctor stepped away. He started immediately cleaning the tool.

"If eet swells or starts to bleed later, let me know immediately. With this, if you say 'Medic', I will be able to find and assist you. Also," he said, putting the tool aside in favor of scratching notes on her file, "I would advise that you not eat a lot this morning. You will be sick in respawn if you do. I'd advise a couple pieces of toast or some dry waffles and plenty of water."

"You assume I will even need to respawn."

The blonde smiled and patted her shoulder. "Good attitude. It's the best thing you can have around here, _ja_?"

Sniper looked at the doctor for a moment longer. He looked back, but turned away as quickly as she caught his gaze. She wondered if this man really was a field medic. He seemed too sweet and entirely too lonely.

"Vell, you are free to go. Remember, plain breakfast. See you out zhere."

His smile was sad. She decided that she wasn't going to rely on this old man on the field. She had already decided that she would not take help from anyone unless desperately needed, but this man just didn't seem cut out for battle and would have enough of a burden just carrying his own supplies.

"Thanks," she said and hopped off the table.

"Oh," he said, drawing her attention. "These should help you." A small baggie of pills was held out for her. It contained two large white pills and four small pink ones. "The pink are for nausea, which you may feel after a respawn and ze white are low-dose painkillers. Will help your neck. Try not to let your pillow get away from you tonight, _ja_?" He chuckled as she took the pills.

"Thanks again," she said.

With that she left the medbay, swearing she heard a sigh behind her. Once the Sniper closed the door behind her and turned to head back to her room, she came nose to chest with an odd suit. She looked up as the figure stepped back, gazing into two black disks of plastic. The oddly-dressed figure gave an upward nod, a gesture the female returned. Apparently satisfied, the figure moved around her to push open the medbay door and slip inside. Sniper made her way back to her room, suppressing a shiver. She donned her hat and picked up her weapons. She decided to skip breakfast.

...

BLU was abuzz with nearly silent anticipation, worried energy almost palpable. Everyone was excited to see the new enemy. Everyone save for one bitter demolitions expert. She stood, awaiting the countdown, dressed in generic, old-fashioned military garb, though the coat was a cyan to match her partners’ clothes. The sword was a Swedish relic, a fine piece with a purple-wrapped grip and elegant hand guards. She checked over the contents of her many pockets, shoulder holsters and belt pouches. Satisfied, she turned to Sniper and gave a half-smile. The sharpshooter returned the gesture with a bit more sincerity, resting his hand on her shoulder briefly. A sticky bomb launcher was her choice of first weapon today and she held it in front of her. Sniper used the same tools he always did. He sighed softly as they waited. Their Scout bounced about, chatting happily at the Engineer, the only one who would indulge in conversation with the attention-deficit youth. The blonde's honey eyes sparkled, and his admiration for the older man was obvious, though the boy would deny it to the bitter end. Truthfully, most of the BLU team underestimated the freckled Scout, even though he'd been with the team for several months now. But the Texan spoke to everyone in the same tone - one that suggested he was speaking to a lifelong friend - and Scout was grateful for it. Sometimes the Engineer would raise his voice at Soldier or Demoman when the two argued, as they had a tendency to do. He didn't like putting his hands on a woman, but often found himself the only one stepping between the two when she took a swing or threw something at Soldier.

When the siren sounded, Scout bolted. His wooden bat had a nail through it and said piece scraped the ground, making a harsh and high-pitched noise, as his legs reacted before his arms. He was out of sight before the others could wince.

RED's rookie Scout did not heed Soldier's instructions and was off before the barked orders had a chance to echo. He wanted to battle, not sneak around or listen to some rant on strategy. When he laid eyes on the logo of the hat of an opposing team member, he grinned. He dashed for the boy in the navy blue hat, dashing between stray bullets, ignoring shouts from both sides. He wanted to smash the boy's head in, enraged by the white-stitched N and Y.

"I always wann'ed ta do this!" the Bostonian cheered, taking a swing at the other male, who stepped to the side.

"Do what, suck?" asked the freckled boy, bringing up his bat, catching the other under the chin.

Luckily for the RED Scout, the nail in the bat had missed him.

"No! Kick a Yankee fan's ass!" the brunette Scout shouted, taking the other's bat to his arm. The bone broke, but the pain only spurred him on. He got in a good rib shot on the other Scout. As the freckled boy stumbled back, his hat fell off. The blonde pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the other. Before he could fire, though, he was taken out by a shot right between his eyes. RED Scout let out a sigh of relief, silently thanking the female Sniper for not holding a grudge.

"Go Sox!" he spat before taking off.

Mr. Mundy sighed, watching the chaos from his perch. Everyone was walking on eggshells, save for his friend, Demoman, and both scouts. It appeared that the new female was a Sniper. The RED boy's protectiveness gave away her position easy enough. He watched his friend set up sticky bombs, running by men that would usually have unloaded a few rounds in her by now. The men on the battlefield seemed plagued by some sort of misogynistic fear of harming her today. She was noticeably, and reasonably, enraged. Once all of her bombs were unloaded, she detached a special trigger unit from the launcher and set it aside, under an outcrop of rubble.

Sniper took this opportunity to engage in a little strategy with the team. He flipped a switch on the tiny device hooked over his ear and spoke quietly; "Enemy Snipah at C-12 point, third level." He watched through his scope as Demoman turned on her own earpiece.

"Point C-12 coming down in ten seconds,” she said.

He flipped it off silently and counted down the seconds, breathing controlled as though he was about to take a shot himself. He couldn't see more of the rival Sniper than the barrel of her gun, but that was all he needed. Half-way though his countdown, the gun suddenly moved. She must've realized the men on the ground were moving away from her. But she was too late. She wouldn't be able to safely get away from her spot without taking some sort of damage.

Four... Three... Sniper silently counted down; two...

"Hurk!" A knife drove into his back, severing vertebrae. There was only pain for a moment before respawn took him. He cursed himself for letting the other's attitude bring his guard down.

With BLU Sniper dispatched, the RED Spy made his way on to more interesting affairs, cloaking and slipping away from the wasted Aussie’s perch. He avoided the shouting men, hurling insults and bullets, taking great care to stay away from the female demolitions expert, who was unaffected by the air over the battlefield. There was one problem he could not avoid: the Pyro with the half-mask. There was no getting around the geyser of flames. He waited for the BLU to sweep the opposite direction and made a break for it. As quick as he was, it wasn’t enough. He let out a breathy gasp when the flame caught him and crumpled to the floor, sharp pain firing in every nerve.

“Ahh, I love the smell of cheap, Italian leather burning in the morning,” he wheezed, knowing full well the charred Spy could still hear him.

The explosion rattled the battlefield, bringing down the small, four-story rubble that the RED Sniper had been hiding in.

Waking with a gasp in respawn, the brunette clutched her chest. Green eyes bugged as she flexed her fingers then moved them to her legs. She could have sworn they'd been crushed before she lost consciousness. She took in another deep breath and heaved a sigh of relief. A second later, she twisted to the side, heaving in another way. As she emptied her stomach's (lack of) contents, another body appeared close by. Quickly getting to his feet, Soldier grabbed the girl by her bicep, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled, but caught herself and shoved him off.

"Of course you'd be the first to die, magette!" Her eye twitched in response and she grabbed her rifle. "At least it wasn't the black guy this time!" he laughed bitterly.

The new Sniper was tempted to fire a warning shot at her own teammate and even looked at him through the scope. She figured she could get away with grazing his earlobe. Her finger caressed the trigger as the man jogged back into the fray. A groan from behind her took her attention away from the xenophobic American.

"Aww, shit," came a slurred voice. "Oi, lassie! Help meh oot here!"

She turned around to see their explosives expert holding his hand out, smiling sheepishly. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and took his hand. She braced herself by bending her knees and pulled him to his feet.

"Ah thank ya," he said, adjusting his hat before taking his hand back. "Ah saw ya got the Scoot. T'was a good shot, girly." He patted her back and he too headed back into the fray. She decided to lay low for a while to avoid any more crushing deaths. She took one of the pink pills.

The RED Pyro stood next to the charred remains of the BLU Spy, staring down at it curiously. He'd thought that even the 'insane' pyromaniac was taken by the idea of protecting the new female. A muted chuckle came from under the gas mask, further proving just how wrong he was. He soon grew bored of watching the glowing embers on Spy's suit and wandered away.

"Ah shit, Doc," RED Engineer moaned as the blonde doctor examined his arm. The two were hunkered down behind an upturned slab of concrete, their Heavy on the other side, attempting to deal with the BLU Soldier, Heavy and Medic.

"It'll be a-" The blonde slumped over, his blood and brain-matter splattering the Engineer's goggles. The man had no time to react as he was ripped to shreds by mini gun fire.

When the REDs left respawn, the Engineer and Medic stopped dead in their tracks. Not two-hundred feet ahead stood the BLU Demoman, looking for all the world deranged. A cigarette hung from one side of her lips, the other side pulled up in a snarl, revealing the jagged piece of tooth. In one hand she held her sword, detonation device in the other.

"Cannot avoid me now, boys."

The brunette Scout ran into the paralyzed Engineer's back, having recently respawned.

"'Ey! What gives?!"

"Come on, little boys," she shouted.

"Dude, shoot 'er!" Scout cried. When the others did nothing, he rushed forward, raising his bat. She dodged a swing and returned the favor. Her sword clanged on his bat. She smiled and spat out her half-smoked cigarette.

"The first one to test me is ze baby!" she said. He grabbed her with his left arm, but she wrenched out of his grip. "Aluminum bat courage," she muttered, her sword once again clanging against the bat. "You are not ready for ze majors, boy."

Heavy and Engineer hurried by as she was distracted, sparring with their new Scout, but the blonde Medic was frozen in place. He couldn't do anything, even as the boy's head fell to the ground, cleaved at the neck. He shrunk back as the girl turned to him.

"Points C-9 and B-9, going up in three seconds," she said into her earpiece. She took three slow steps forward, each step seeming to last an eternity. She raised the device and pushed two buttons. "Now, dear Medic," she said, explosions rattling in the distance. "Shoot me," she said, lips turning up.

"Kristina!" he gasped, taking a step back. "How d-"

RED Scout's scattergun disposed of her as the boy ran by. He would have made a witty comment, but he had to make up for lost time. He figured she should have been expecting him so close to the respawn location. The blonde Medic gaped, the girl's blood splattered across his coat. He leaned back against a piece of what was once a fence and looked at the body in disbelief.

"No way," he muttered.

The blonde female sat up quickly in the respawn room. She cursed and swayed and held her breath. Her hand shot out to catch herself, but it did nothing to stop the peach and tan spew that poured from her mouth. Looking at the partially digested pasta did not quell her nausea. She coughed violently and another puddle quickly joined the first.

"Shoot, too easy! I got this. Today's ours in one minit!" the blonde heard in her earpiece.

She groaned and flopped on her back. She rolled on her side and whined, not caring what she looked like.

Three minutes later a voice announced the BLU victory. Most of the BLU team enjoyed their celebratory kills, but Sniper felt like something was wrong.

"Demo, where are ya?" he asked into his headset, heading toward the base. He hadn't seen her at all during the victory round and was concerned by the fact that the rival Medic knew her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOLT: Hello all. Hope you enjoyed chapter two. If not, leave me a review explaining why. I'm afraid I may have overdone the xenophobic Soldier trope. Ja ne.


	3. Chapter 3

She'd left her earpiece on after informing the group of the locations of her bombs and what Sniper had heard concerned him. He knew she was trying to goad the passive RED Medic into fighting with the suicidal-sounding phrase, but what followed almost made him miss a target. The blonde doctor knew the girl's name. He muttered it and shortly after, scattergun fire rang loud in his ear. The opposing Medic muttered something he couldn't make out and there was a fleshy 'thud'.

Sniper and Demoman knew each other's names. They had for a year now. They shared this knowledge one night, sprawled out on the dirty mattress in the back of Sniper's van. They smoked marijuana form an ivory bowl and told each other a few of their dirty secrets.

_"Muh name's Andy," he said, for once enjoying contact with another person. Her side was pressed against his and he couldn't bring himself to care that it was just a little too warm. "Andrew Mundy," he said, his lips pulling back in a lazy smirk, wrapping an arm around the female's shoulders._

_"Nice to meet you, Andrew," she said with a rather stupid-sounding giggle, pressing her cheek into his vest. "I am Kristina Heilbronner. 'Tis German."_

_"Are yeh German or were your parents just crea'ive?" Sniper asked, chuckling to himself._

_"Yah, German. No telling, kay?" There was a long pause as she turned her head toward the ceiling, just staring at it. "Lived there for seventeen years. Mom unt I moved in '39."_

_"Can't imagine whoi," Andy said, rolling his eyes. The action made him laugh and Demoman followed suit. "That's not funney." His words did nothing to stop their chuckles. "Ya ever miss it?" Sniper asked, turning his head to look at the girl who found the dropping headliner very interesting._

_"Germany? Nah. Just my father unt brother, yah," she said, nodding slowly, a grin creaking on her lips. "You have family?"_

_"'Eah, a mum and dad. Thank I got a baby sister runnin' around somewhere."_

_"You think?"_

_"'Eah."_

_"Uhn." Her grunt made him chuckle again. He moved closer to the girl, smiling as he slowly curled around her. She stiffened, seeming to sway even though she was lying down._

_"Hey, uh-" She tried to pull away from him. "I ain't wan-"_

_"As much as yeh act like one, ya ain't a bloke, so ya don' 'av'ta worry about me," he said._

_Her face scrunched up as though she couldn't process the information she was given. "What?" she asked._

_"Yer not moi type," he clarified._

_"Oh," she said and snuggled into his grip._

_The spent the rest of the night talking about places they wanted to go and things they wanted to do. Surprisingly, they had a fair amount in common and he'd decided the other might make a good "partner in crime" after his time in the war game was up. As much as he liked his solitude, it was pleasant to have a friend._

"In Melbourne with your mother," was her response. She obviously did not feel like talking.

"Demo," he scolded lowly.

She sighed heavily and the sound was almost deafening. He decided to check the respawn room. He found the female leaning against a wall, holding her stomach, earpiece thrown across the room, bloodied sword lying where she had respawned along with what he assumed was the control unit for her sticky bombs. She had dried vomit on the corner of her mouth. Sniper winced at the way she looked. Usually she'd pick herself up, wipe off the vomit and run back out into the fray.

"Feelin' crook, eh? Let's go see the doc," he said, slowly walking over to her. That phrase had her scrambling to her feet.

"No," she spat. " _Traue ihm nicht_ ," she muttered, wiping her mouth.

"Eh? Whasat mean? Som'n bad I assume," he chuckled at her glare and held out his hand. "Oi'll go with you," he offered. Sniper was silent for a moment. He licked his lips as he thought about what to say. The blonde’s loud belch brought him out of his thoughts. The look on his face made her laugh.

“Always a lady,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Hey, I left my launcher out there and the system did not pick it up for me. Want to go with me to get it?” she asked, gathering her things. She ignored the drying puddles of vomit for the time being.

“Alroit,” Sniper said, adjusting his rifle strap. “Let’s get it before someone else takes it for scrap.”

The gates to the field were closed but the two found a way in and walked to where she’d left her weapon.

“We shoul’ prob’ly talk to some’n about the system not picking up yer gun,” Andrew said, looking out across the field, wary of rival camp boys being on the prowl. The day’s battle was over, but, he figured, he could never be too careful.

The RED Sniper had been combing the battlefield, enjoying the smell of charred flesh that lingered, looking for anything the respawn system may have left behind. She was contemplating the complexity of the kind of machine it would take to put people back together and only leave a smell and a stain when she heard voices behind her.

“It probably does not recognize the weapon as mine after I detach the detonation unit from it,” a female voice said.

The female Sniper took off toward her base, cursing her bad luck. She was hungry. Ravenous, almost.

Catching a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye, Andrew turned to the retreating form.

“’Ey,” he said, jerking his head in the girl’s direction.

The blonde jerked her head up. She grinned and took the Sniper’s hand with her free one. He let her, knowing she would release his grip soon enough. The two used their better knowledge of the landscape to corner the girl.

“Well, well, well, what ‘ave we hea’?” the male Sniper asked, putting a hand up to block the female Sniper’s path. She turned to go the other way but bounced off the chest of another female, who laughed when she stumbled back.

“Looks like a lost little RED riding hood,” the blonde said with a chuckle. “What are you going to do in the land of big, bad wolves, uh?”

The look of fear in green eyes swiftly changed to one of malice as the challenge was accepted. Her hand at her side popped the button on the strap that held her kukri in place. This was not missed by the male Sniper’s keen eye.

“I’ve fought bigger wolves than you two,” said the brunette, brandishing her blade. She held it up between herself and the others, blade facing out.

The other female was going to speak, but she instead studied the blade with a soft humming noise.

“Windlass, hmm? Not a bad choice.” Her hand went to her hip, all but tearing her sword from its sheath, stepping back. She brought it up, parallel to her body and stepped back in. “Mine is bigger,” she whispered.

Andrew thought about drawing his own blade, but resisted, resigned to watch the women. They had challenged each other and, ever the gentleman, he would not step in unless needed.

“Size isn’t the only thing that matters,” the girl in red said, jade eyes narrowing dangerously, “But feel free to underestimate me some more.” She had a hint of an Irish accent, just enough to make one wonder if she’d been abruptly uprooted.

The blonde laughed. It wasn’t melodic. It wasn’t cute. It certainly wasn’t charming. The only thing it served to accomplish was enraging the RED Sniper. Demoman handed her sticky bomb launcher to Sniper and stepped back, blade extended toward the new girl.

“Shall we dance then, _verlierer_?”

“After you, _Cailli_ ,” the brunette said.

Sniper privileged, hearing the women mutter what he assumed were hateful words in their own respective languages. He held his friend’s launcher with one hand, and watched their dance. Though he wouldn’t have called it a dance himself, as calling it such would imply that it was graceful or at the very least, thought out. It was neither of those things as the girls took wild swings at one another, the RED seeming more intent on doing harm than the BLU. Upon getting her arm slashed open, the blonde howled in pain and hit the brunette on the head the butt of her sword.

“ _Schwachling_ ,” she hissed, kicking the momentarily disoriented female back.

“ _Go hifrean leat_ ,” was the retort as soon as the brunette regained enough clarity to take another violent swing at the blonde.

The sound of their blades clashing was not a pleasant one and neither female heard the shouting or hurried footfalls of the RED Scout quickly approaching.

“ _Kackbratze_ ,” the blonde muttered, not caring if her insults even made sense at this point.

“ _Ciak ort_ ,” the RED muttered.

Demoman pulled back to take yet another swing and the hollow ‘clang’ of her sword on an aluminum bat was not a pleasant sound for any parties involved. Kristina looked up and the female Sniper used the opportunity to get payback for being kicked in the stomach earlier. The blonde stumbled back, her teammate’s arm shooting out to catch her. After gagging and inhaling sharply, she looked up at who had interrupted them. She grinned at the angry-looking Scout, revealing that her lip had been split some time during the fight.

“Ah, minor league!” she said as if happy to see him.

“Th’ hell, man! Battle’s ova, ain’t it?” he asked, stepping between the females, holding his bat out toward the blonde.

“Back for another arse kicking?” she asked gleefully. “Didn’t you get enough earlier?”

“If I recall right, I blew ya head off right afta!” he said, trying to look imposing against a female two inches taller and easily had fifty pounds on him. “While you was eyein’ our doc like a piece a meat, ya slut.”

The blonde’s mouth fell open.

“’Ey now! There’s no need fir those kin’a names!” Sniper put in, pulling his friend back and stepping in front of her. He invaded the shorter male’s personal space.

“Oh what, did I insult yer bitch?” Scout said with a grin. “Come out ‘ere to watch a little girl on girl violence? Well, th’ fights ova ya prick!”

Andrew was shaking with rage. His shoulders hunched, eyes narrowed at the runner. Tomorrow, he decided, the boy would not be able to get past the respawn exit. Scout opened his mouth to continue bad-mouthing the others, but stopped when a feminine hand tapped his arm.

“Enough. They’re not worth it,” she said, sheathing her kukri.

“Yeah,” he responded before spitting at the ground in front of him.

Sniper stepped back to avoid getting a wad of mucus on his boot. The two turned and hurried away as Sniper shook off his friend’s tentative touch. He turned to look at the girl and his eyes widened.

…..

Immediately after he’d respawned, the blonde Medic vomited. He shook his head violently and rushed from the room, back to the medbay. Once the door closed behind him, he ran his fingers through his hair.

“ _Mein gott…”_ he muttered, staggering to the work station with the pill press.

His hands shook as he searched a cardboard box of bottles and baggies, looking for a recent batch he’d made. When he couldn’t find it, he swatted the box off the table with a curse. Its contents scattered and one bottle busted open, white pills flying everywhere. He flopped down in is chair and put his elbows on the now-clear surface. He buried his face in his hands and fought back curses and sobs.

There came a soft knock on the door and the blonde hoped he could just ignore it and they would go away. Surely, he thought, respawn had taken care of all their injuries. A minute later the knock came again. The doctor sighed heavily and muttered in German under his breath. He once more ignored it. He was surprised when the handle jiggled and the door creeped open, but he did not look to see who it was. The door closed and the sounds of boots thudding against the floor met his ear. The blonde tried to block out the sound by gripping his hair.

“Mark,” came a smooth voice. The blonde turned to look at the other, hands still in his hair. He said nothing. “Mark?”

The Medic sighed and scrunched his eyebrows. He looked back down at his desk and closed his eyes.

“What happened today, Mark?” the Engineer asked, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. The other immediately stiffened. He held his position for all of two seconds before the blonde stood and smacked the other’s hand away.

“Do not touch me, _schwul_!” the Medic shouted, slipping easily into German in his distressed state.

Engineer shrunk back out of shock rather than actual fear. Though the man had several inches on him, Mark was not an intimidating man. He was a doormat of a Medic, nothing like the quite possibly psychotic doctor at the BLU base.

“I’m sorry,” Engineer started, looking concerned. “I,” he paused to think of what to say. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He looked around at the mess on the floor. “And ask what got you so spooked.”

The fire that rose in those blue eyes died immediately. Mark sighed and his posture relaxed. He ran his hand through his hair once more before letting it rest on the back of the chair he was previously sitting on.

“I’m sorry, Ellis,” the blonde’s voice returned to its’ normal tone and he gave a shy glance over at the other man. “I just,” he trailed off, looking over the other’s shoulder.

“You just?” the shorter man asked, stepping closer.

Mark fixed his tie and took a step back. He looked down at his clothes and paused his movements. He remembered her blood splattering over his coat and her body slumping to the ground.

“Mark?”

Engineer’s voice made him jump. He blinked rapidly and raised his head. “Yes, Ellis?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets so he would not fiddle with anything.

“You’re spacing out. Maybe you should rest,” was the simple suggestion.

“No, no. I am fine. Just a little distracted. It is quite silly, really! I will be over it by tomorrow, I assure you.”

Ellis wasn’t buying it. He clicked his tongue as he thought of what to say. He crossed his arms and studied the doctor, who was forcing an almost creepy smile.

“You know me! We’ve worked together for, what is it, six years now? Would I lie to you?” Mark asked, taking his hands from his pockets to hold them out.

“Yes,” Ellis said simply. He took off his hat and goggles, placing them on the clean spot on the desk. “If you think it will bother me. Now spill.”

Mark pouted and the Engineer fought back a chuckle. He knew so much yet so little about the older man. He knew the other was an emotional wreck, but not why. He knew the blonde was in damn good physical condition for his age, but he had never seen the man raise a finger to harm another except for mild scoldings in the form of gentle swats upside the head. He also knew the other had some bad habits, one of which was strewn about the floor as they spoke.

“I just thought I saw a ghost is all,” Mark said, heading to another work station, opening a drawer. He walked the long way to get to the other desk as to avoid any possible contact with his ally. That was another thing Ellis had observed; that the blonde went out of his way to avoid contact.

“A ghost?”

“ _Ja_. I,” he stopped for a moment, pulling out what looked like a scrap of paper. “For a minute,” he spoke, sounding distant and staring at the scrap in his gloved hand, “the demolitions expert on the ozher team looked like my sister.” He stood up to his full height, deciding not to slouch over the desk anymore and held the picture out for the other to see.

Ellis studied the picture for a moment, bringing one gloved hand up to scratch his stubbled chin as he stepped closer.

“Hmm, it does kind of look like her,” he said, but quickly smiled and added: “but, the girl in this picture is much prettier. Besides, don’t you know where your sister is? Don’t you write to her?”

“ _Nein_ ,” he spoke softly, “I haven’t seen my sister since…” He trailed off, his jaw set. A muscle in his cheek fluttered. Ellis wanted to urge him on, but was almost afraid he would inspire another outburst. So he waited. “Nineteen thirty-nine.”

A long silence passed between the two as the Engineer thought of what this could imply. He’d never thought to ask the man if he was a German-born Jew. He’d never even thought that the man could be a holocaust survivor – or a Nazi. But the man was much too timid for that, he assumed.

“But, it is silly to think that Kristina would be here of all places!” Mark said and laughed. “The little girl who loved Johan’s cookies and football would not be a mercenary!”

“A’course not!” Ellis added, though he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m going to go watch Demo cook. Make sure he doesn’t blow up the kitchen. Want to come?”

“No, but I appreciate the offer. I have work that needs to be done and a mess that needs to be cleaned up.”

“A’right,” the Engineer said, moving back over to the other desk, grabbing his hard hat and goggles. “Just find me if you feel like talkin’.”

With that, he left. As soon as the door closed, the blonde put the picture back in its place. He knelt down to pick up a small handful of the white pills and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed them dry. Mark grabbed the top form from a plastic tray on his desk and set to work, determined to get some work done before the pills kicked in.

….

As the RED boys (or boy and woman if you prefer) made a hasty retreat, Demoman put her hand on Sniper’s back. She was torn between thanking the male and scolding him for stepping in. She went with neither as the feelings canceled each other out, deeming silence the appropriate course of action as they watched the REDs leave. He shrugged off her hand and turned to look at her, obviously still a bit miffed at the rival Scout’s words. His expression fell, his jaw going slack. She was bleeding. Her uniform was certainly ruined with a gash along one sleeve, bloody wound apparent.

“Yuh should really go see th’ doc,” Andrew said, eyeing her arm.

“ _Nein_!” the gasped responded as she drew back. “ _Bitte_ ,” she whispered.

“I don’t speak German, hun,” he said and sighed. He wanted to pull off his hat and run his fingers through his hair, but his hands were full and he wasn’t going to make his friend carry her nearly forty pound gun with an open wound. An open wound she was now pressing her other hand on, clutching her arm to her chest. She had smeared blood all over her uniform. At some point, she’d returned her sword to its scabbard, possibly when he’d stepped in front of her.

“See? Ze bleeding is slowing!” She pulled her hand back so he could see the congealing blood. It oozed over the flesh he could see and started to pour anew with the relaxed pressure. “ _Bitte_ , please, do not make me go to him!” She looked decidedly female in that moment, blue eyes pleading with him. She looked scared. She seemed much less afraid of losing her arm than seeing the doctor. Andrew sighed. The wound wasn’t life threatening, just messy and, he assumed, painful. He wanted to know why the blonde was so afraid of the Medic, but let it go for the time being.

“Well then, I guess we gotta get ya patched up,” he said and gestured with his head for her to follow him.

She clutched her wounded arm all the way back to his van and Sniper was surprised that the woman did not demand he let her carry her own weapon. Her fear of the doctor was crippling. She became a blathering mess around the bespectacled man, going so far as to cry and beg the sharpshooter not to leave during her twice yearly physicals. As he spotted the brunette pyromaniac – dressed casually in worn out jeans, a white tee and thick, dark, wrap-around shades – he wondered what the opposite of xenophobia was and if the girl would freak out upon meeting someone who looked like herself and spoke German.

“Whot ‘appened?” Pyro asked, grabbing the blonde’s wrist, pulling her arm out to get a better look at the wound.

“The new RED _schlampe_ ,” was all the blonde said, save for hissing at the tug of flayed skin.

The brunette didn’t seem to care that his hand was quickly becoming covered in his ally’s – friends’? He wasn’t sure how the others felt about him – blood. He peeled back the ripped sleeve and the blonde hissed again as the material was torn from the wound where it had been soaked and absorbed as blood started to cake.

“Thes is pretty,” the fire starter said, adjusting his shades with the other hand. He, too, knew that the female would not see the doctor and thus did not suggest it. “I can fix it, but it will scar.”

“Ngh, don’t care.”

Sniper sat down next to the two, one leg hanging over the bumper, the other drawn close to him. He tossed a green cloth bag, one that was splattered with blood and other various stains, to Pyro. The other caught it and tucked under his arm as he twisted the girl’s arm, trying to gauge the extent of the damage.

“Got a lighter?” the brunette asked, “Mine ran dry.”

“A’course it did,” Andrew said, searching his vest’s inner pockets.

Once found, the lighter was handed to the Pyro. He lit his cigarette and puffed on it as he searched the bag. He handed a bunched up cloth to Demoman and instructed her to hold it tightly over the wound before he resumed rummaging. Surprised to find a thin metal rod in the bag, the brunette chanced a glance at the Aussie, who was sipping a beer, and wondered if he had cauterized wounds before. The shorter male held the rod at one end with the bottom of his shirt bunched around it and heated the other end with the lighter.

“Thes will hurt,” he said, swatting her hand away and pinching the wound shut on the side closest to her elbow. He took a small bit of pleasure in the way the female screamed when the heated rod touched her flesh.

Sniper flinched slightly and looked away. The girl let loose an array of foul words in German and some of the words made the maniac grin. He recognized “fuck you” and “bastard”, but the other words were lost on him. After the wound was burned shut, he set the rod aside and resumed searching the bag.

“Burn salve…” Pyro said slowly. As he waited for a response, he inhaled the scent of Demoman’s burning arm hair, committing it to memory.

Sniper leaned into the van, stretching to reach something. There was a faint snapping sound of crisp vegetation and, a few seconds later, a leaking aloe leaf was thrust into Pyro’s hand. The brunette squeezed the leaf for a moment, watching sap bubble up on the fleshy part of the plant before roughly rubbing the goo onto the newly closed cut.

“ _Fick_! Warn me, bastard!” Kristina shouted, nearly dropping her cigarette.

The male in front of her grunted in response, tossing the spent leaf aside. “Plastic wrap?” he asked

Sniper got up and searched boxes for the requested material, finally finding a roll with enough left to wrap around her arm twice.

“Duct tape?”

“Duct tape?” the sharpshooter questioned.

“Yes?”

“There’s medical tape in the bag.”

“Not strong enough,” said the shorter male.

Andrew grunted and grabbed a roll, handing it off to the other. Both males smirked at the girl’s expression; she did not like to be manhandled as such. Once completely bandaged, Demoman flexed her fingers, testing the pull of the wrap. It wasn’t too bad. A beer was thrust into her other hand. The three drank in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, watching the sunset.

…

The RED Sniper had tried to treat her own wounds with a little – very little - help from Scout. He was actually more of a hindrance than help. She was surprised with how little damage she had actually taken; only one cut she had taken on the back of her thumb when the other woman’s blade slipped down her own, nothing to really worry about a few bruises. The only thing she was actually worried about was the lump on her head.

She was developing a headache that she was sure would go away if she had some peace and quiet and food. But the Bostonian kept suggesting, ordering, telling her to go see the doctor. In order to shut him up, she did. The thin male even walked her to the medbay doors. She knocked on the door but there was no answer.

“Jus’ go in!” Scout said, turning the handle. He pushed the door open and shooed the girl inside.

Sniper looked around and blinked cutely. Pills were scattered everywhere. Odd, she thought, closing the door behind her. She looked around at the work stations and the table, wondering where the doctor was. Finally turning again, she noticed his form, slumped over his desk, and almost laughed. It appeared as if he had fallen asleep doing paperwork and was now drooling comedically on the last piece he was working on, pen still in a relaxed grip. She stepped to the edge of the desk and studied him for a moment. He looked thin, all angles; broad shoulders tapered down long arms, feminine fingers, pointed nose. His glasses were askew and his mouth hung open. He snored faintly.

“Doctor?” she asked, not knowing if she really wanted to wake him or not. But, she decided, that position couldn’t be good for his back. “Doctor,” she said again, louder.

He bolted upright, the paper sticking to his face. He dropped the pen and stared at the source of the voice. She laughed until she noticed his dilated pupils.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked a few times, his eyes trying to adjust. He settled on leaving them half-lidded.

“ _Herr Am_ -“ he paused and chuckled, realizing he was in no danger. “Sniper!” He sounded way too cheery for the emotions that had just flit across his features. Shock, worry, fear, confusion and relief all passed in a matter of seconds. He pulled the paper from his face and looked embarrassed. He sat it back down and flexed his fingers slowly. Satisfied with his body’s reactions, he put his hands together and forced a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Y’alright?” she asked.

“Never better!” his response. “What troubles you?”

She pursed her lips and grabbed the chair opposite his desk. She flipped it around and set. “I got into a fight with ‘at BLU bitch,” she said, leaning her head on the back of the chair. She did not see Mark stiffen. “Now my head ‘urts.”

“Ah, ze painkillers did not help?”

She looked up over the arm rest. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been more concerned with where her hat had gone, not wanting to wear a baseball cap to keep the sun out of her eyes the next day. “I didn’t take them,” she admitted sheepishly.

“How about you try one of zose, and if it does not dull the pain in unt hour, come back to me, _ja_?”

He pushed his chair back and stood, but his limbs were not as ready for action as he thought they would be and stumbled. Sniper scrambled to her feet and grabbed the doctor’s coat to keep him from falling over. She pulled him upright and he looked down at her, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Thank you, _herr_ \- uh, _Fr_ \- Ms. Sniper. I must stop falling asleep at my desk!” he said, adding a nervous chuckle. “My legs, you see, become like gelatin or flan.”

“Yeah…” she trailed off, still holding him steady.

Once his legs began to obey his orders and straightened out, he calmly pried one of her hands from his jacket.

“Now,” he said, stepping back, slowly letting their hands part, “Was it a bump on the head or something else zat may have caused this?”

“ _Cailleach d’aois_ hit me here,” she gestured with two fingers to the top left of her head, “With the hilt’a her sword.”

The doctor ‘hmm’ed and reached out, gently parting her hair to get a better look at the area. While re-parting the hair to look in a different area, Mark took a chance at conversation.

“What is that language, hmm? Spanish?” he asked, running his fingers over the tender spot. She hissed in response to the touch.

“No, Irish,” she corrected, trying to look up at the doctor’s face. It became much easier when he pulled back.

“Ah, yes. I should have figured. Your beautiful green eyes give you away.” His palm patted her cheek gently before he pulled away and walked to a metallic cabinet.

“Thanks, I think,” she muttered, watching him.

He pulled open the door which hissed in response. Both were met with a cold gust of air. It was a cooler, she realized as he pulled a cold compress from it.

“This should dull the pain until the pills kick in,” he said, holding it out to her.

She took a few steps required to meet him and took the compress. “I appreciate it.”

“Come back any time,” he said with a soft smile, leaning against the cooler.

To the Sniper, he looked lonely and almost pathetic. She sighed softly and ignored the barely-there desire to befriend the man, hoping he wouldn’t take her manners for something more. She nodded and put the cold compress on her head as she left the room. She stiffened a bit when she heard a tired sigh behind her, faint under the sound of the closing door. She stopped for a second, debating with herself about what she should do. With her own sigh, she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. She almost stopped just short of the kitchen, the bickering within doing nothing to help her headache. But, she would rather take the larger pill with water, so she pressed on.

“You can’t put that much in there, you’ll kill everyone’s taste buds so they can’t enjoy my food later,” said a low, smooth voice with a slight southern drawl.

“Doon’t tell meh what ta do, lad!” came a harsh, loud retort.

"Lad? I'm old enough to be your daddy!"

Sniper listened to Demoman and Engineer argue as she strode to the sink and took a cup from the cupboard. She turned the cold tap on and collected the water. She chuckled at the goofy grin on the face of the Heavy Weapons Guy who sat at the table, happily watching the two argue. She took up a seat next to him and decided to inquire; “Why are you so happy?”

“Demoman and Engineer like to argue about whose food is tasting better. When they do, Heavy has good food for days.”

She scoffed and watched the two bicker until the Engineer threw his hands up in defeat. He sat across the table from Heavy and Sniper. “Hey, uh,” the female started, looking across the table. “Whot’s up with the doctor?”

Engineer chewed his lip as he thought of what to say. “He, uh, has his problems. Like the rest of us. But he’s a good guy. Probably the kindest amongst us.”

“Is he really cut out for this?”

The southerner’s expression answered the question for her, despite his following words: “Yes, he is a good doctor, just… unable to hurt anyone but himself.”

“Whot? He’s… strange.”

“He doesn’t like to be touched. It makes him act kinda off. He’s not a creep or anything like that.” Engineer waved his hand dismissively.

“He didn’t seem to mind me helping him up,” she said, scrunching her brow.

“Huh, maybe because yer a girl. Ya probably remind him of his little sister. Or he’s lonely. But, I promise, he’s not an old perv.”

She hummed softly in response and took one of the white pills with a big gulp of water. Demoman howled in pain and the Sniper nearly moaned at the delicious smell that wafted her way.

...

From amidst the radiant glow the sunset cast, a figure emerged. The group watched pensively as the figure approached, something dangling at its side.

"This is for you," Soldier said, coming into view, throwing a dead, headless wild turkey at Demoman's feet. She looked confused. "I kept its head," he announced.

"Uh," she said, dumbfounded. Sniper reached out to grab it.

"Don't touch it, Fluffy! She needs to eat it!"

"’Fluffy’?" Sniper muttered.

"I have no idea," Demoman responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We gave BLU Sniper the name Andy before it was canon that his name was Mick.
> 
> JOLT: I'm feeling a mite goofy after that last bit. I really do like Soldier, he's just convenient to be an ass. It'll get fixed eventually. In the meantime, just assume he's on his man-period, or something. I realism fail. But, if you like what you've seen and you want to see more, or if you absolutely hate it, click below and leave me a review! Ja ne!
> 
> BB: You so weird. Anyway, I did an accent or two myself. Sorry if they’re butchered, I don’t fancy myself a writer. (This is why I’m but a lowly editor) Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

Early the next morning, at BLU base, Heavy craved a snack and made his way to the kitchen as quietly as possible. Surprisingly, without shoes, it wasn’t that difficult to remain quiet enough to not wake the others. He smelled smoke on his way to the kitchen, though he didn’t see any lights. He wondered how long it had been since one of the smokers on the team had been there.

He knew the members of “the insomnia club”, as they jokingly called themselves, all smoked. Spy as well. He knew the RED Spy and Medic did too, often catching the two hidden from the fray to share a quick puff while the older man healed the Spy. He also caught the distinct smell of burning plastic from the foe Soldier, assuming it was the disgusting by-product of a different brand.

When he flipped on the light, he flinched slightly upon noticing he was not alone in the room. “What is leetle Demoman doing, sitting alone in dark?” he asked, watching the female curiously.

“I am not little,” she said, flicking the ash off of her cigarette into an ashtray.

It looked as though she had started smoking before her eyes adjusted to the dark. There were a couple of small piles of ash on the table near the tray.

“Maybe. But to Heavy, everyone is leetle,” he said with a nod.

“Yeah.” Her lips curled up in a smirk as she spoke, “I guess that’s true.”

With another nod, he padded quietly to the refrigerator. He pulled the door open and scanned the contents for a suitable midnight – or, one A.M. rather – snack.

“You never answered Heavy’s question,” he pointed out, one hand moving aside a six pack of some fancy beer.

“Hmm,” she said, searching for a reason. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Then why not do something in your room? Where you can have light on and not to worry about people bothering you,” he said, grabbing an open can of potted meat.

“I’m used to sitting here,” she said simply, watching him take the meat and a block of cheese to a counter. He took a loaf of bread from a cabinet.

“Where are Sniper and Pyro?” he asked, spreading the meat on the bread.

“Asleep, I guess.”

He continued making his sandwich, slicing cheese and adding condiments. Before he was finished, Demoman lit another cigarette. He put up the ingredients and threw away the empty meat container before taking a seat next to Kristina.

“Are you lonely?” Heavy asked. He took a bit of his sandwich as he waited for her response.

She took a sip of the drink in her mug as to avoid answering right away. After a long silence, Heavy gave her a pointed look.

“Not really,” she said with a shrug.

“Not really?” he repeated.

“Just bored,” the sighed response.

“Have you hobbies?” the Russian asked around a mouthful.

“Yes,” though it sounded more like a question than an answer. She raised a brow at the other.

“Why not do that until you can sleep?”

“Too tired,” she supplied, letting her forehead hit the table with an audible ‘thunk’. Heavy chuckled.

“What are Demoman’s hobbies?” he asked.

She looked over her arm at the other. “Lifting weights, daydreaming, automotives,” she grumbled.

“Weight-lifting!” Heavy cheered. “Ees why leetle Demo can lift Sniper!”

Apparently he’d seen the one celebratory hug they’d shared in which she’d picked up the sharpshooter, behind his back and under one leg, to spin him.

“Psh, I could lift you.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Heavy said, nodding a few times.

The blonde sat up. She glared at Heavy. “Want me to prove it?”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want Demoman to hurt herself,” he said.

“Stand up,” she said, following her own advice. She stubbed her cigarette out in the tray and turned to look at Heavy.

He reluctantly stood, shoving the remaining bit of the sandwich in his mouth. He said was about to ask what she wanted to do when he found his feet not on solid ground. She made the funniest grunting sounds, but the fear of falling kept Heavy from laughing.

“Okay! You have proven! Please put Heavy down,” he gasped, large hands pawing at her for purchase, to keep himself from forcefully kissing the floor.

She grunted again as she sat him on the ground and groaned when she stood up straight, both hands on her back.

“One forty-five?” she asked, stretching with a grimace.

“One fifty-one point nine,” he corrected. “Demoman is very strong!”

“Ninety-eight,” she said, gesturing to herself, “All muscle.”

Heavy felt graced by her smile. “Is big for a girl, da?”

“Very,” she said with a snort and laugh.

“I do not mind. Demoman is credit to team,” he said, sitting back down.

“Thanks,” she said, also sitting down.

“Does Demoman have family?” Heavy asked, resting one arm on the table.

“That’s an awfully personal question,” she said, once more on edge.

“Was just curious,” he said, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

The blonde looked away before the look could grip her soul, but as she started speaking she knew it was too late. Someone had given her a sad, cute look and it had worked.

“No. I’m thirty-eight, Heav’,” she said, picking up her cup. “My mother was taken by illness four years ago and my father was lost to the war.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “I have a brother somewhere, but he is likely dead, too.”

“I not see how your age has anything to do with parents being alive. I am forty-two and still have mother. She is strong woman. Sixty-seven and still as strong as when I was child,” Heavy said with a fondness in his eyes that was heart-warming. Luckily for Kristina’s ability to speak, she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, well. Mine was not so strong.” She trailed off for a moment. “When we left-” she stopped speaking at the touch of Heavy’s large hand on her back. “What are you doing?”

“Is not comforting?” he asked, rubbing slightly.

“Is creepy,” she corrected. The hurt look on Heavy’s face had her adding “But I appreciate the company.”

The next morning found the insomnia club in the kitchen, Sniper and Demoman watching Pyro cook bacon over the open flame of the stove. It was an excellent show as he flipped the meaty treat over a flurry of fire. Setting the cooked strips aside, the brunette put raw ones on the pan and set it back to cook. He stalked to the cupboard, listening to his friends - as he had decided the previous night - chat quietly. He took out three glasses, tossing two up and down, in one hand alternatively.

“Heads up,” he said, tossing one to Sniper. The older male caught it with ease. Another went to Demoman, who, by now knew where he would throw and caught it with ease. It only took her three shattered and one chipped glass to get the hang of his routine.

The down-dressed pyromaniac was popping his hips and swaying his shoulder to an imaginary tune when Heavy walked in. The brunette retrieved another glass. He spun it on his finger before handing it to the larger man.

“Pyro is making breakfast?” Heavy asked, sitting beside Kristina.

“Yeah, got too much sleep last night. Energy to…” He paused dramatically and grinned at his friends, “burn.” They groaned at the horrible pun. The bacon was flipped again and Heavy watched curiously.

“Is a meal and a show, _da_?” he said, watching the fire flare up and die back down.

“A’yup,” Sniper said, chuckling.

At the BLU base, having one person cook for the rest was a rare treat.

“Who let this maniac have access to an open flame?!” Soldier demanded as he walked in. He poured himself a mug of coffee and leaned against the sink, eyeing the shaggy-haired male.

“Shh!” Heavy ordered. “Is meal and performance! Is good, watch.”

Soldier grumbled something that sounded like “disrespectful maggot”, but resigned himself to watch. Lest the boy burn the base down, he told himself.

The brunette grinned and flipped the bacon with another flash of flame, flipping the boisterous man off with his free hand. Kristina and Andrew chuckled when Soldier flinched. By the time the bacon was finished, Spy had sauntered in and was smoking a cigarette, perched delicately against the table with one leg crossed over the other.

Pyro moved on to eggs, flipping toast behind him from an old toaster with one hand, greasing a new pan with the other. Sniper and Demo made a game of who could catch the most toast on a plate. Sniper cheered, knowing he was going to win by catching the last two pieces, but Spy snatched them out of the air.

“Oh, sorry mate,” he teased, biting into the dry bread.

“Bastard,” Sniper whispered, setting his plate down.

Pyro juggled six eggs as he waited for the butter to melt.

“That’s an interesting sight,” Engineer said, taking a seat. Andrew and Kristina chuckled at his response.

Scout stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Pyro making eggs over a brilliant flame.

“U-uh… Is that safe?!” His voice was an octave higher than normal. He was met with a resounding ‘shh!’.

Everyone watched quietly as the male made eggs and even fried tomato bits and jalapenos for the others to add to their eggs as they pleased. He set the table with a little help from the Sniper, Demoman and once, when the blonde missed a fork that was tossed her way, Heavy. She thanked him and made to grab it, but he did not let go. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“One of your eyes is darker than other,” he said quietly.

“Yeah.” She pulled the fork from his grip. “Experimental drug caused brown pigmentation in my left eye while I was in the service.” She turned back to the table and set the fork down as Pyro placed salt and pepper shakers on the surface.

When the show was over, Medic was clapping came from the entryway. The female stiffened as Medic praised Pyro; “Vell done. Vas quite ze… delicious performance.”

“Ha, you’re so punny!” Engineer said.

The kitchen was loud as they ate, filled with the sounds of silverware clashing with plates, loud chewing, groans of pleasure and praises of Pyro’s cooking skill. The brunette raised an eyebrow and licked his bottom lip, giving the gold ring in it an extra glint as even the Spy made a soft, appreciative noise.

“Glad you liked it, _mon cheri_ ,” he said in a seductive tone. The masked man nearly choked on his eggs.

“Yes, well, I have had better.”

Pyro stalked off to his room, having left the dishes for someone else to do. He leaned over his desk, twirling a pen. He read over the list in his journal with a grin, remembering all the enemies he set aflame. He counted each since the start of his days with Mann, recalling something about each scenario, various expressions playing across his features.

With a pout, he put an asterisk next to the most recent one and wrote an explanation at the bottom of the page: “healing purposes.” He closed the book with a frown and threw the pen on the desk. It was almost time to get ready.

…

Soldier was supposed to be the one to cook that day, but with one look at the bags under his eyes, the Engineer took up the responsibility. He made biscuits and sausage gravy. Soldier sat at the table with his helmet pulled down over his eyes as their Pyro grunted at Ellis.

“What? I already gave you a plate.”

Pyro grunted again and held up two gloved fingers.

“Two? What for?”

Pyro shifted nervously and mumbled something. He motioned vaguely to his face and, miraculously, Engineer understood.

“Takin’ one to Medic?” he asked, filling up another plate.

Pyro let out a muted cheer. He handed the plate over and watched with a grin as Pyro waddled away. The happiness faded as he turned his gaze to Soldier. Alone in the kitchen with the other, knowing they only had a few minutes before people started to file in, he pulled a chair up to sit by Soldier.

“Ken,” he started, reaching a hand out to rest it on the other’s shoulder. Soldier allowed the touch. “Maybe you should go back to bed for a bit, huh?”

“No,” he replied, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Do you want to try and eat something?”

“No.”

“What do you want?” Ellis asked softly, feeling the normally strong shoulder under his hand quake a bit.

“I want this damn feeling to go away!” His normal volume returned. The hand squeezed his shoulder.

“This is something you’re going to have to deal with.”

“Not yet!” Soldier nearly whined.

“You were fine yesterday,” Engineer said as if asking a question.

“I had pills yesterday,” Ken grumbled. He pulled back from his friend’s grip and wrenched off his helmet, throwing it. It skittered across the table and clattered to the floor. Ellis sighed, watching the other run his fingers through a brown buzz cut repeatedly.

“He won’t give you any more?”

“I took a week’s worth,” Ken admitted.

“If you take them all at once it won’t have the right effect,” Ellis spoke softly.

“You think I don’t know that?! It’s not enough!” Soldier slammed his fists on the table. The southerner didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s get you to bed. I’ll bring you some food in a little bit, okay?” Engineer said, putting an arm around the other man’s shoulders, helping him to his feet.

“Okay,” was the breathy response.

In Mark’s lab, Pyro sat two plates down on the desk.

“Ah, thank you, uh…”

Pyro lifted his mask, just enough to expose an angular chin with a hint of light brown stubble.

“It’s okay when we’re alone,” he said.

“Thank you, Ace,” the blonde doctor said quietly with a smile.

The two ate in relative silence, Pyro’s mask sitting at that awkward angle, until the fire starter broke the spell; “Quit staring,” he said before putting another biscuit piece in his mouth.

“Hmm, can you see me?” Mark asked.

“Not like this.”

“Then how would you know I’m staring?”

“I can feel it, okay? Enough people stare.”

Mark pouted a bit before he resumed eating, gaze turned to his plate.

“You know I am not here to judge,” the doctor said.

“I know,” Ace responded, fiddling with his food, blindly trying to find another piece.

“Take off the mask,” Mark instructed.

With a grunt, Pyro did as told.

…

The new Sniper was last to wake. She stumbled from her room, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey hey, sleepin’ beauty!” Scout cheered, patting her on the back. “Kickin’ BLU bitch’s ass takes a lot outta ya, huh?”

“Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” she muttered, walking down the hall.

“Mornin’ lass!” Demoman greeted, shoveling gravy-soaked biscuit chunks in his mouth. His alcohol sat, unopened next to his coffee. He seemed rather cheerful for being sober, especially if he was as much of a drunk as she suspected him of being.

"Mnh," was her response, though her lip quirked slightly. Scout padded into the room behind her, sitting at the table. He watched as she poured herself coffee.

As she put sugar in the steaming liquid, Demoman spoke in a low tone to Scout; "Aye, older women be one of this world's tem'tations, lad. But that one'll strike ye doon faster'n a storm o'er ol' Lock Ness," he was smirking over his coffee cup as Scout turned to him, slack-jawed.

"What?! I wasn't- shuddap, ya old perv!" He crossed his arms and legs, then pouted.

"Ahaha!" a good natured laugh after he drained the rest of his mug and slammed it on the table. Demoman opened his liquor and stopped with the bottle just shy of his lips. He raised an eyebrow, noticing how the new Sniper's butt wiggled just as she made herself a plate, and chuckled at the darker-colored brasier under her white tank top. "But... Ye 'ave better taste than most yer age, boyo. Not many'a youth understand the," he paused to consider his words, taking a swig, "Charm of a strong woman." This was followed by a chuckle.

"'Ey!" Scout protested, putting both feet on the floor.

"What're you two yappin' about?" the female asked, practically throwing her plate on the table. She had a death grip on her coffee, holding it a hair's breadth from her lips as she spoke.

"Ah, nothin' lassie!" he said, smirking a bit. "So, I heard you kicked mah rivals arse after the fight."

The sharpshooter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! She was all-" Scout jumped to feet to demonstrate, "And then-" He flailed his arms wildly, giving a poor imitation of a sword fight. "It was wicked! She kicked her ass!"

"There was no arse-kickin' involved, though she has more than enough to plant a boot in." The girl smirked at her own fat joke and took another sip of coffee. The expression fell away as she remembered the fight. "She went easy on me. I will have to make sure she understands that she cannot do tha’."

"Ah, fuck her, man! She's prob'ly a slut! Bein' the only chick with a buncha fat, hairy men-" Scout stopped his rant when he realized the others were staring at him. "I mean, uh- well, I'm not sayin' that..." He trailed off when Sniper held her hand up as a signal to shut his mouth.

"If'n she's as dedicated as I'um, she woon't've the time to be a slut," Demo said, leaning on one elbow propped on the table.

"Yeh, I doubt she is whorin’ around," the female took a bit of her food, savoring the somewhat new taste, "but she certainly did make me mad. I would have thought that another battle-hardened female would understand me, even as an enemy," she trailed off as she swallowed. "But I guess I was wrong." She sighed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. She turned to face Scout; "You shouldn't assume that jus’ because a woman is surrounded by men that she will sleep with ‘em. Especially those with military trainin’."

Scout clicked his tongue. "Man," he whined, "it almost sounds like yer defendin' her- Wait, you have military trainin'?"

"No, my training is from a police academy. I was talkin’ about the BLU bitch," she stated plainly, lips twitching, hinting at a smirk when Demo laughed. A fourth person joined them, to which Demoman paid no mind.

"How ya knoo she 'as mili'ry trainin', mm?" the Scot asked.

The girl looked away from the suited figure gliding to the sink, back at Demoman. "Her attire, her sword style. Hints at Northern European. Where, exactly, I can't say for sure."

"My guess goes to Sweden," Spy said smoothly, leaning against the sink. He sipped a glass of water, watching the three.

"What makes ya say that?" Demoman asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Her sword," was the simple reply.

Sniper pondered this for a minute as she ate. "Yeah," she said, nodding. "It would make sense."

"Whysat?"

"She knew my kukri was Windlass, and they make replicas of the swords of Swedish nobility."

"Zhey manufacture military blades for many cultures," Spy put forth.

"It could just be a ruse though. I think she yelled at me in German."

"D'ya speak German, lass?" Demo asked as Scout dismissed himself and left the room.

"No, but it's a rough language with harsh-soundin’ words."

"Ahaha!" Another laugh. "Best not be tellin' the doc that, aye?"

The room became quiet for a moment. Demoman stood and popped his back with a quiet groan before taking his dishes to the sink.

"I best be gettin' ready," he said.

Alone in the room with the back-stabber, she could feel his eyes on her while she ate. Once finished she stood and turned, depositing her dishes in the sink and looked over at the suited man now leaning on the counter. His movement from sink to counter had been silent, but, she figured, if it hadn't been, he wouldn't be a very good spy.

"You are making enemies very quickly, _non_?" Spy asked with a smirk. He was keeping his distance from the girl, not wanting to relive their first meeting.

"Look, I"m sorry about before."

"Ohn? It ees just a difference in culture, I am sure," he said, a slight snicker underlining his words.

"So, no hard feelings?" she asked.

" _Mon cheri_ , spies do not have feelings to be hard," he said, setting his now empty glass on the counter.

"Damnit, you know what I mean." She gave him a hard look.

"Are you forgiven?" he asked, checking his watch. " _Oui_. You should probably be getting ready."

...

At BLU, there was still a slight air of nervousness as the team gathered for the start of battle.

"You!" their Pyro said, pointing at the blonde female.

"What?" she asked, glaring at him. She didn't look happy, dressed in a blue turtleneck and a flak jacket.

"Before I ask why you're wearing something different, I have a bone to pick with you!" he said, propping his flamethrower awkwardly over his shoulders. She gave him a look and cocked her head as if to say 'go on.' "You broke my streak!"

"What streak?"

"My streak of killing people by burning them!"

"How?"

"I cauterized your cut yesterday."

She shifted nervously, pulling at the sleeve over the barely-patched up wound. "So?"

"Four-hundred ninety-seven! Now I have to start all over!" He pointed at her and pouted.

"You didn't have to. I was content to bleed to death and let respawn have me."

"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes behind his half-mask.

"Quit yer blabbering, children!" Soldier barked.

Kristina's glare turned on the helmeted man, but she said nothing.

"Hey," Pyro said, tugging on her sleeve. She wrenched it out of his grip and narrowed her eyes once more. "Geez! On your period or something? Anyway, why are you wearing that?"

"Bitch fucked up my usual uniform, so I'm wearing what the company provided me."

“How’s that going for you?”

“Terribly. They did not account for my tits and fat rolls.”

“So vulgar!”

“You love it.” She finally smirked, making the other smile deviously.

“I do,” he admitted.

“Listen up, ladies!” Soldier bellowed, paying special attention to the chatting buddies, “If we don’t want to get our asses kicked out there, we’re going to have to give it our all!”

The female rolled her eyes and picked up her weapon.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, maggot?!” he demanded.

She decided to play along. “Sir, yes, sir!” This got a couple of scoffs from the group.

“Drop and give me twenty!” he ordered.

“Go fuck yourself, sir!”

Some of the group openly laughed, even Engineer, who figured he may have to step between the two soon. Soldier stared, slack-jawed. He’d never been more tempted to hit a woman. He clamped his mouth shut and stared her down for a moment.

“In all my forty-four years on this planet, I have never met a more infuriating woman! Is that any way to talk to your superior officer?!”

“Sir, no, sir!” Then she resumed her normal speaking tone; “But you’re not the one I take orders from around here.”

“Of course not! Because if I was the one giving you orders, you’d be washing the skid marks out of these boys’ panties!” he shouted, pointing behind him at the others.

Spittle flew from his mouth and she flinched as a speck landed on her cheek. A rumbled started in her chest, forming a growl when it left her lips. As she pulled her fist back, three pairs of arms grabbed her. The first two pair were unsurprising; Engineer, the one who normally broke up their fights had his hands on both her shoulders, pushing her back, and Sniper, her voice of reason, grabbed the arm that held her gun. The third was Heavy, who had stepped up and took hold of her fist, gently, in his large hand.

“Maybe leetle Demoman should save aggression for the battle, _da_?” he asked, tenderly caressing her knuckles, hoping to relax the female a bit. She wrenched her hand away and muttered in German; “ _Ficken holle_ ,” making Medic chuckle.

The room was tense as they waited for the start of the battle. When the beginning siren sounded and the gates were opened, Scout gave a cry of joy.

“Sweet Jesus, I am so outta here!” he said, sprinting as he praised his lord.

“You okay?” Sniper asked the slowly walking female.

“Yes?” she asked more than said. “I’m just mad. It’s nothing to be worried about, _dummkopf_.”

“I hope means ‘buddy’, cuz I had me an idea,” he said, tilting up his hat.

“That is?”

“When oi foind a nest, oi’ll radio yeh and have yeh kill that new Scout. Make ‘im pay for the things he said,” he suggested, smiling down at his friend.

“Getting my revenge for me? Yes, that will make him think I’m not your bitch,” she chuckled.

“Ah, c’mon, mate!” he said, clapping her back. “Let’s jus’ give ‘em hell!”

“Okay,” she said, shaking him off. She ran ahead of him and looked over the battlefield, trying to decide where her bombs would go best. She used her team’s special grid for locations on the battlefield, so she could better tell the others where her bombs were going to go off. It was Soldier’s idea, and as much as she hated using anything of his, she had to admit it worked perfectly.

She watched the tanks engage each other, theirs backed by their Medic and briefly wondered why the RED doctor was not so supportive of his heavy weapons guy. She tried to put it from her mind as she set up half her stickies, but the day prior, when he’d uttered her name gave her a curious urge to go find the elusive man. The more she thought about the matter, the more she wondered about him and why he was so timid. The man was rarely seen at all. Her mental distraction caused her to be blown to bits by the foe Soldier’s rocket. She cursed in the three languages she knew while vomiting violently in respawn.

Her earpiece crackled to life as she hauled herself up; “Found a good’n. Off the Scoot,” Sniper said calmly.

“Copy,” she said after flipping her piece on. It was shortly after. She was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t have to look very hard for the RED boy and chucked a grenade twenty feet in front of him. By the time he realized what had happened and turned on his heel to run the other way, he was already a blood splatter on the rock and dirt.

Sniper watched the recently spawned Scout scurry out of respawn and put a bullet between his eyes, allowing himself a chuckle. When the boy ran out again, he repeated the process, this time catching him above the ear. Four more times he repeated these actions before the boy stayed in the respawn room.

“Wisin’ up, eh?” Sniper whispered himself.

“Damnit!” the Bostonian roared, slamming his fist into a wall. He flipped on his headset. “Enemy Sniper has me pinned down!” he groaned into it. “’Ey, toots. Help me out!”

“Sure thing, stud,” she responded jokingly.

From her own nest, she had a clear view of the battlefield, though a small piece to her far right was blocked by what remained of a building that was possibly once formidable. That did not concern her, however, as most of the combat was in clear view. She’d even picked off the enemy Demoman, who’d been trying to sneak along the rubble of a fallen building, a few times.

She hadn’t seen the other female for some time, so she turned her attention to finding the other Sniper’s nest, as per her teammate’s request she wasn’t too concerned for her own safety as she heard the hiss and woosh of their Pyro on the level below her, fanning the area to check for cloaked spies. It gave away her position, but she wasn’t too worried as the enemies with explosives were preoccupied with other tasks.

“Ya gitim yet?” Scout’s voice rang in her ear.

“No, I haven’t been watching you. Let him get you again so I can see where he’s coming from.”

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned and ran out, hoping to avoid the bullet this time. He would have no such luck as his body slumped to the ground, pierced at the neck. He clutched it and gasped for air, pushing against the bleeding wound desperately. Just as he wheezed down a lungful of blood, another bullet pierced his skull, putting him out of his misery.

“Gotcha…” the female Sniper quietly cheered. She found him, but she didn’t have a clear shot. “Found him,” she said into her earpiece. “You can come out in half a minute.”

She imagined the boy bouncing from foot to foot impatiently as she lined up her shot on the enemy’s gun. She wouldn’t be able to kill him from this angle, but she might be able to flush him out of his perch. Thirty seconds later, she exhaled and pulled the trigger, bullet glancing off the gun, wrenching it to the side as he fired. The bullet missed its target by a long shot and the gun nearly fell from his hands. She would have sworn she heard him curse too.

The sound of the flamethrower beneath her had left, their Pyro checking other half-buildings. He was smarter than she originally gave him credit for, she thought.

“Of a- He got away! That bitch got a lock on me an’ messed up meh shot!” Andrew said into his earpiece. “I have to find a new fuckin’ nest now! Spy, do your damn job!”

“My job is to capture the intel, _mon ami_ , but if you wish, I can relieve you of your bird problem,” Spy responded, but it fell on deaf ears as when Sniper turned around, he took a revolver blast to the face. He found himself in respawn with Demoman and Engineer.

“Hoo, that enemy Soldier is on one today!” the man said, tipping up his hardhat. He looked at the violently shaking blonde at his side with concern and reached out to touch her back. Sniper stopped him, holding his hand out, shaking his head.

“Get back to yer buildin’, mate! Heard Freckles bitchin’ about needin’ a dispenser.”

“Yeah, well, Freckles can kiss mah rump. I’m doin’ the best I can out there,” he said with a huff, looking through a shelving unit for the part he needed.

“’N yer doin’ a great job,” Sniper said, kneeling by the blonde, watching, waiting for Dell to leave.

“Tell that to our Solly. He’s got a bug up his butt too, ya know,” he trailed off, pocketing the piece he needed, motioning to the girl. He watched for a moment, lips pursed in silent thought, wondering if Sniper and Demoman were more than friends. He turned and left, shaking his head.

As soon as he was out of sight, Andrew gripped Kristina’s shoulder with one hand.

“Hey,” he said. When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.

“I’m fine. Go,” her voice wavered before she hurled again.

Sniper reluctantly released her shoulder and stood. He took two steps away before turning and asking; “Yer not pregnant, are ya?”

She turned a glare at him that would have killed a lesser man. “Who the hell is pregnant for two years?” she growled, “And for that matter, who would I have fucked? The only people I get along with are gay and-“

“Olroit! Geezus,” he said, taking his hat off, running his fingers through his hair. “You need to see the doc tonight.”

“No,” she said, spitting.

“We’ll talk about it lata.” With that, he left.

She grumbled to herself, grabbing her launcher, wiping her mouth with her wounded arm, hissing at the pull of her bandages. “Fucking respawn.”

While the two friends shared something of a “tender moment”, their Spy was after the female Sniper. He came close, only to have to pull back temporarily, and wait for the RED Pyro to leave. Andrew was caught by one of her bullets and sent back to respawn.

“Damnit, spook!” he hissed into his headset, “Keep ‘er offa me!”

There was no response, but he expected as much, grumbling under his breath. He was normally a very patient man, but something about the newcomers infuriated him. He swept wide, to the left, looking for a way into the upper levels of the biggest building on the map. Finally, the masked maniac left and the BLU Spy could sneak up to the RED Sniper’s nest and play with her.

The air was tense and thick and the red-shirted female wondered if she should pack up and leave. She took out the enemy Soldier who was in a heated wrestling match with her own as the bent man had smashed her allies face to a bloody pulp. She didn’t have the time to enjoy her kills as the sound of a lighter made her gasp audibly and spin around, grabbing for her kukri that lay on an old, plastic table beside her.

“Ah ah ah,” a heavily-accented voice taunted.

She hissed in pain as her hand was pierced with a butterfly knife, pinning it to the cheap plastic between her second and third metacarpals. She stared in horror, never having seen such an injury on herself before.

“You seem to be causing problems for our Sniper, _mi amour_ ,” the Frenchman teased, pushing the blade deeper.

The girl whimpered as the thicker part of the blade tore her hand open further. It was excruciating, but adrenaline took the edge off, even as she shook, tearing the edges of the gushing wound further. The Spy hummed appreciatively as he straddled the girl, pinning her legs to the crate she sat upon. When he grabbed her other wrist, escape seemed unlikely without tearing her hand up beyond repair.

“Nossing is more beautiful than the pain of a woman who thought she was strong,” he purred, bringing her caught arm up to his face, kissing her fingers. He couldn’t tell if her expression was one of disgust or anger, but he was pleasantly surprised that she still had a bit of fight in her. “Mmm, ze last time I had a woman in zhis scenario, she was begging and pleading for her life,” he said with a chuckle and drew his tongue along the white knuckles. “Eet was,” he paused to think, letting his cotton-clad cheek rest against the shaking hand. He had to tighten his grip on her wrist to keep her from pulling away. “Four years ago, I believe. Your Engineer had an apprentice. She did not last long,” he said with the slightest chuckle. She pulled harshly and the Spy gave a little, leaning forward against her.

“Eager to perish? Do you not want to hear my tale, _bien-aime_?”

“Fuck you,” she spat, glaring hard at the man. The fingers of her wounded hand twitched as she tried to work feeling back into them.

“ _Non_ , _mon cher_ , zhat is my job,” he said with another chuckle. “Or perhaps the job of zhat Scout you zeem so fond of.”

“I am not fucking that kid!” she hissed and resumed struggling.

“Hon hon! You make it zeem ozherwise,” he purred. “May I borrow zhees?” he asked, using his free hand to switch on her earpiece. “Howdy pardner,” he said, lips brushing her ear, “I am about to do to your new female what I did to zhe last one,” he cackled.

“Fuck- Shit! Someone help her!” Engineer’s voice came over the device in her ear.

“Whatser location, lass?” Demoman rasped.

“Ahn! Tower seven, second level!” she gasped.

As Spy switched off her earpiece, the girl used this opportunity to shove the male back and wrench the knife from her hand with a wail of agony. She slashed the man across the throat, not nearly causing enough damage for more than a brief check-over with gloved fingers. His pause, however, gave her the chance to scurry away. She was slipping down the thin metal ladder that led to the lower level, only having one hand making the trip that much slower.

Spy followed, slowly, watching her over the edge for a moment before joining her on the frail structure. Once a reasonable distance from the ground, he jumped down behind the girl, grabbing and pulling her off the rusted rails. She screeched and flailed, gagging when she hit the dusty, cracked wall.

“ _Mon peti_ \- yeeowch!” he howled when she sunk her teeth into his shoulder. He wrenched back and slapped the girl across the face. “You’d best learn your place!” he hissed wrapping gloved fingers around her neck.

“Oi!” the RED Demoman called, running up. He punched the Spy in the temple, sending him and the girl toppling over, kicking up a gray and brown puff of dust. The men’s struggle was a blur as the female gripped her wounded hand, blood pouring over her fingers. Another blur of blue joined the fray as a screaming blonde tackled the Scot. The two wrestled for a minute as the Spy straightened his suit. The large female sat on top and pulled the pin of a grenade with her foul teeth and fought with the dark-skinned man, shoving hands, prying at the other Demoman’s mouth with her free one.

“Open your _ficken_ mouth you-“

The next thing the Sniper realized was that she was in respawn with a laughing Scot.

“Oh, bitch goot me good today!” he cheered, putting the bottle to his lips as he stood. He looked over at the girl and frowned. She looked slightly nauseated and possibly dizzy. “Aye lass, th’ pain’ll goo away with time.”

He shouldered his guns, flipping them behind his back. He held out his free hand to the girl, so gently. She took it with a small, uneasy smile and was helped to her feet. The wave of nausea subsided more quickly than she expected and the most recent death was just a ghost of a memory. Demoman's hand was warm and she vaguely wondered if he was still intoxicated or if respawn removed those effects.

"Ya goot ta look oot fer them spies, lass!" he said, bringing her hand to his lips, but not kissing it. He let her hand go and rested his own on her shoulder briefly. "I'll cover ye! Let's get back oot there 'n give 'em hell!" he said, bringing a new bottle, seemingly produced from thin air, to his lips.

"Thanks," she said quietly, still absorbed by her curiosities about the machine's capabilities. She almost turned to look when Soldier spawned behind them, screaming something incoherent, but a hard set of knuckles in her back kept her walking in the same direction.

The RED Scout found himself in the enemy base. He stayed close to the wall, hearing footsteps in the distance. He tried to remember where he'd been told to check for the intelligence, but was a drawing a blank. But, he figured, it didn't matter. He was alone in the base with one other person, it seemed, and if he could find them first he'd have all the time in the world to explore. The footsteps were leisurely and making the Bostonian antsy.

_Who the hell struts along casually at a time like this?_ His impatience was nearly audible.

He peeked around a corner, expecting to catch a glimpse of someone at the far end of the hallway. Luck was not in his favor as he came nose-to-flamethrower with one infamous psycho.

"What have we here?" the man in the half-mask asked, grinning down at the wide-eyed boy.

In BLU respawn, Spy watched the violently-ill woman for a moment after standing and straightening his tie.

"You are crazy, madam," he said with a chuckle, playing with his cuff links. He frowned deeply when he realized one was missing. "Bah, real ivory," he muttered. With one last look at the blonde, who was ignoring him as she blew chunks in a waste bucket, he stepped out of the room silently. He knew better than to linger when the blonde was recovering from respawn. He imagined a dull ache in his jaw where a tooth had been forced from its’ home by her brutish knuckles when he'd tried to comfort her.

After his kindness was spurned, she became just another soldier, another grunt, to him. He no longer felt bad for treating her like a man, though it had been something he struggled with at first. Looking back, as he cloaked himself and glided across the field, he couldn't seem to remember why he'd ever treated her like a woman in the first place.

The blonde was, in his opinion, as disgusting and filthy as the company she kept with Sniper. Though, she bathed more, it seemed. Or, at least, she smelled better. Her nails still had the same dried blood, or dirt - he would never get close enough to tell, willingly - under them as her "best friend". She still burped just as loud and used the same vulgar language as any other man on the base and seemingly had no problem with scratching herself in public. But it was just as well, he supposed as he slipped past the REDs running out of respawn. He grinned as he walked the halls, unnoticed.

RED Soldier slumped over his rocket launcher and for a moment, Heavy and the blonde Medic thought he had been shot. But that wasn't the case as a few seconds later, when Mark approached him, Medigun at the ready, Soldier picked up his launcher. They were on the defensive, closer to their base than the enemy. Mark opened his mouth to inquire, but found himself in respawn with Soldier as the words left his mouth, having been torn to shreds by minigun fire.

"Are you alright, Kenneth?" he asked softly.

"Do I look alright?!" the other demanded, trying to snatch up his launcher and storm out. Dizziness consumed him and he missed the first grab, grunting under his breath. H

He almost gave up, letting his arms go limp for a moment before making another grab at the launcher.

Mark frowned as he noticed how the other was shaking. The taller male stood and picked up his launcher for him. He extended a gloved hand to the other and Soldier turned away, pushing himself up slowly.

"They need us out there, Soldier," Mark said, holding out the weapon. It was rudely snatched out of his hands.

"You don't actually do anything out there,  maggot!"

The blonde Medic tugged at his surgical mask and tried to tell himself that it was only the other's addiction that had him being so thoughtless. He followed the other out of the room and quickly into the fray.

RED Scout was screaming, flailing at the fire in his shirt. He'd dropped his bat at about the same time he'd decided he'd rather be without a weapon and pee stain, rather than have both. The latter seemed almost inevitable now as the Pyro in the half-mask held him off the ground, smirking. The gold ring on his lip glinted dangerously. He threw the runner back into a wall and flipped the light on his flamethrower on as the slimmer male slid down the wall. After a second, Scout hopped to his feet only to be engulfed by flame.

He could hear the maniacal laughter even over his own screams and the sound of his flesh blistering and said blisters popping. The unimaginable pain only lasted a few seconds as every nerve seemed to shut off.

In the end, RED was overpowered and the BLU Spy snuck in and took their intel. Their victory was announced and Kristina enjoyed tearing her rival limb from limb as he held his arms up in surrender. She turned to the RED everyone was ignoring on their victory kills and she saw why, blanching.

He looked miserable. It made her feel sick just looking at him. Soldier was sitting cross legged on the ground, clutching his launcher. Demoman kicked his shoe.

"Get up," she said. It came out softer than she would have liked and she made a sour face.

"Shut up, woman," he mumbled half-heartedly.

Instead of responding, she walked away and pulled the pin on a grenade. She chucked it behind herself at him, ignoring the feeling of chunks of a living being pelted her as she headed toward her own base.

"Wanna clean up before you see th' doc?" Sniper asked, falling into stride at her side.

"I'm not going."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOLT: So, my boyfriend is really getting into Card Captor Sakura. I really don't have much to say other than "I'm sorry this story is so kitschy."
> 
> BB: I think this is our longest chapter so far. I guess I don't have anything to say either.


	5. Chapter 5

 

At RED, everyone was waiting for Soldier to yell at them for another loss. They waited, sans Medic and Engineer, in the briefing room for thirty minutes before they scattered, going their own ways. Pyro's intent was to talk to Medic - the only one who had seen him without his suit, his protective barrier from the world. He took a seat outside, not too far from their Engineer as they both waited. For what, Pyro wasn't sure, but Engineer had been there first and was waiting, so he assumed he couldn't just barge in.

"Please," Ken gasped, grabbing Mark's coat. He pulled the other close, pleading with his eyes.

"Kenneth, what happened to the pills I gave you?" Mark asked, taking a hold of one of Soldier's hands, pressing at a pressure point to get the man to release his grip. When he turned his attention to the other hand, the first was back in his collar. He sighed and tried to pull back, but even in his weakened state, Soldier was stronger than him.

"I took them!" came the nearly shouted reply.

"That-" Mark said, blinking several times, "That was a veek's worth!"

"Damnit, I need it, Doc!" Ken cried, slumping against the blonde. He nearly knocked the other over, but Mark barely braced himself on his examination table.

"Kenneth," he muttered, leaning his glutes against the table to free up one hand. He brought the gloved digits up to gently run over the other's buzz.

"Please," the barely whispered plea.

Neither heard the knock on the door.

Neither heard the door creak open, either.

"Ken, you have to take them as I prescribe them or they won't achieve the desired effect."

"You're one to talk!" Soldier shouted. Mark flinched. He personally thought he did a better job of hiding his own addiction. But if he was that transparent, he thought with a sour expression, he had some serious thinking to do.

Soldier gasped and dropped his knees, resting his head on the blonde's hip. "I'm sorry," he muttered into the coat as he pulled it open.

"What are you-"

"So sorry-" His shaking fingers fumbled with the blonde's belt.

"Stop-"

"I'll suck your dick," he whispered, nuzzling the tucked-in dress shirt.

"Ken, don't-"

"Let me, give me-" His words stopped abruptly when a loud cracking noise echoed in the room. Ken's eyes watered as he stared up Mark, slack-jawed. He hadn't expected the other to actually hit him.

A gasp drew Mark's attention to the doorway and he looked up just in time to see Engineer pull his goggles down to rest on his collar, Pyro at his side.

Mark silently pleaded for the other to help him out, and the shorter male jumped into action, kneeling at Ken's side to pry the other's hands off of him gently. Engineer used great care in gathering up the broken man in his arms, pulling him back. Mark's lip threatened to quiver, with disgust or envy he couldn’t be sure, as he watched the display and listened to Ellis whisper sweet nothings to the shaking man. The blonde pulled away and headed to the bench with the box of premade pills, taking out a bottle. He cautiously approached the two, stopping a few feet away.

"I can trust you to hold on to these and give them to him once per day in the morning?" he asked, holding the bottle between his hands. "I'm..." There was a short pause as Mark looked to Pyro, who was standing in the doorway, back to Engineer, "I'm sorry I'm being so rude, I just-" he stopped, trying to find the words. He felt a bit of relief when Ellis nodded.

"Yeah, I'll handle it, Doc. I’ll come back and get them after I get this man to bed. He's had a long day. Ain't that right, bud?"

"I am not a child!" Soldier moaned, hauling himself to his feet with the help of the Engineer's overalls.

“Now come on, partner. Ain't nobody calling you a child. I'm just gonna hold onta yer medications so you take 'em proper," the Engineer cooed, stroking his hand over the Soldier's back. He grimaced at the moisture he could feel through the white shirt and looked about for the other man's helmet. "Maybe yeh fancy a shower first?" He started toward the door and Pyro slipped into the room to get out of their way.

"If you'll hold on just a moment, please," the blonde said, looking through a wooden cabinet. He found a vial and poked a syringe through a specially made cap. At first his hands shook, but his training kicked in and steadied lanky digits. He would perform his duties like a good soldier, a good doctor. Fixing broken men so they could be broken again was his job and had been for the past fifteen years. What good surgeon would shake like a leaf, he scolded himself silently.

"If you'd like, I could give you something to take the edge off long enough for you to shower and eat." Faking a jovial tone should have come easier to Mark, but his words sounded every bit as confused as he felt.

Soldier seemed to perk up a bit at the suggestion. "I'll take anything I can get, Doc." The desperation in the normally strong man's voice made both yellow-topped REDs frown deeply.

"Und that is the problem, Soldier," Medic said, pushing the plunger on the sharp to release any air bubbles that may have dwelled inside. "You need to slowly reduce the amount of the toxin in your system," the blonde prattled on, the more to distract himself from the guilty feeling welling in his gut rather than to actually chastise the addict. “Rid yourself of the dependency slowly.”

"What you give me ain't the same," Ken muttered, pulling his shirt out by the front to air his sweaty chest. "Hell, it ain't even in the same group as-"

"I am more than aware, Soldier. But now I cannot give you those drugs. Perhaps if we met twenty years ago," the blonde said, taking a gentle hold of the desperate man's arm, pulling it out straight to inspect the bend of his arm. "Then maybe my superiors would have allowed me to give you such things." He tapped the softer skin to see if he would need a tourniquet to make the vein appear but that was not the case.

"Yeah, the good ol' boys did a lot of crazy shit to beat the-" Soldier hissed at the piercing of his flesh. "-the Nazis."

Ellis stiffened at his side and chanced a sheepish look up at the doctor. His eyes looked vacant as he chuckled.

"They sure did. They know now that though those chemicals temporarily make you a better warrior, they are very addictive and have bad long term effects," he deposited the used sharp in an orange bin labeled "hazard" and put the vial back in its rightful place.

"But you should take care of your body instead of giving in to those..." He paused to consider his words, glad his back was to the others when he bit his lip. "Urges. To better serve your country."

"Yes sir," Soldier said, taking a deep breath. His relief was almost instantaneous. The cravings weren't completely quashed, merely reduced to a small ache, a nagging reminder in the pit of his stomach. Depressing thoughts pushed at the back of his mind, but the new-found swell of pride at the doctor's words held them off for now. But it was always easy to have a hopeful outlook on recovery when a different drug sloshed through his veins and turned his mind to mush.

"How are you feeling?" the blonde asked, turning to face the two, leaning back on his desk a comfortable distance away.

"Better. Thanks, doc. I'll take the pills right this time," Soldier said, fighting off the desire to fidget uncomfortably. The drug in his system helped keep him still, though he couldn't help but think of how many times he'd told the doctor that before. He wished for his helmet so the others couldn't see how his gaze was directed at the floor. The thing he hated about feeling normal again was the shame of what he’d done to achieve that feeling.

"I know you will. Engineer will have your pills," Mark said, crossing his arms. He turned his gaze to the shorter man. "When you come back I will explain the dosage."

"A'course," Ellis said, leading the other from the room.

The door closed behind them with a soft “click” and the blonde sighed heavily, letting his hands fall to the desk on either side of him. He stared at the tiled floor just past his dusty boots until Pyro cleared his throat. Mark jumped, nearly knocking the plastic bin labeled “in” off his desk when his hands flew up in shock. He grabbed the tray and put it back in place before giving the other a nervous smile.

"Can I help you?" he asked, scratching the tip of his nose.

Pyro pulled his mask back down and studied the lanky doctor through dark lenses for a tense moment. He walked closer with carefully measured steps, stopping just short of where he knew the doctor would lock up at unnecessary closeness. He slowly lifted the mask again so that he could be creased at the action. He breathed out heavily through his nose before speaking; "Neck pain."

The doctor cocked his head curiously and waited for a continued explanation. When he received none, he pushed away from the desk and to try and get a read on how he was feeling, but the mask had already been slipped back in place.

"Are you sleeping on it wrong? Perhaps you need another pillow. I could give you a mild painkiller if you'd like." Mark was silenced by an indignant grunt. The other did not want pills. "Then maybe-" Pyro cut him off again. "What is it?" Mark asked, removing his hands from the pill box and crossing his arms. "It's easier to understand you if you take zhat thing off."

A distinct sigh came from inside the mask before it was lifted again, just enough to expose the angular, lightly-stubbled jaw and thin, pale lips. Hair did not grow in or around the harsh gray scars splattered across the right side of his face. The few that dared try grew awkwardly.

"Haven't shaved today. Was kind of hoping to keep it on," was the reply.

"Well, once you tell me vhat it is you want, you can put it back," Mark offered.

"Mnh, can't you just rub it out like you did last time? It kept the pain away for a while." His first words were almost whispered.

"Certainly," the blonde said.

"Hop up on the table and let me go get an oil. Any scent you prefer?" Medic had quite the selection of scents after failed attempts to help Soldier curb his addiction with aromatherapy.

"No, just want the pain to go away."

"Alright then, I’ll just use one of my favorites, then." A melodic chuckle followed the Medic's words and Ace nearly shivered. "If you would be so kind as to expose the sore area?"

He grunted "positive" and tugged at the zipper at his neck. He pulled the suit down so that his neck and shoulders were exposed, hitching it back up on the right side to hide as much of his scarring as he could. For the second time since combat had ended, the blonde was glad no one could see his face as he felt the prickling of a blush starting on his nose. Ace had such strong shoulders and pleasing bumps of lattismus dorsi. Mark was sure the slender yet toned muscles fit the other's build perfectly and wondered if his hips were as rounded as the suit made them seem. The last five times he'd had the younger man suitless, it was all business and Mark had not afforded himself a chance to look. A basic physical did not require him to examine the curvature of one’s hips.

The doctor huffed at the display of insecurity and let the other pull the suit back up a bit. He uncapped the oil and spread a bit on his now bare hands. Ace gasped and arched his back at the first press of fingers into his flesh. The mask muffled the sound, but gave away just how sensitive he was to another's touch. Skinny fingers dug into tender muscles and the man below him shivered. He tensed a bit, but forced himself to relax.

"How does that feel?" Mark asked, leaning into his work, applying more pressure, hoping the younger man would relax. He wanted the other pain-free so he could have his lab to himself until dinner as per usual. He would be lying, though, if he said he didn't enjoy the intimacy of these massages. That scared him more than a little bit.

Pyro whimpered when the other's thumbs struck a spot that was actually sore and he muttered something. It was indistinguishable through the mask.

"If this pain keeps coming back, you will have to let me look more into it, you know," Medic said softly, fingers dancing up the other's neck. He only received a dismissive noise amidst a bunch of raspy sighs. When Mark pulled his hands away, Ace groaned and pushed back, wanting the contact back. Mark chuckles softly and patted the other's unscarred shoulder before stepping away. Ace could hear the sounds of a faucet being turned on and water running as he zipped his suit back up.

"While I have you here, I may as well ask you; how are those eye drops for you?"

When Ace looked over his shoulder, the other was perched at his favorite place to lean when talking to a patient - the front of his desk. The masked man faced away from the blonde and pulled the mask off letting it rest on the table beside him. He ran gloved fingers through his hair and sighed.

"It's alright. My eye gets a little dry if combat goes too long, but, you know, the mask prevents things from getting in it, so..." He trailed off, sighing again.

Mark studied what he could of the younger man's scars; a malformed ear, a cheek gray and wrinkled before it's time.

"Why don't you put drops in it during battle?" Mark asked, cocking his head to get a better look at the other, but trying to remain neutral looking and sounding.

The scoff and slump in his companion's shoulders turned his neutral expression sour.

"You do not like that idea?"

"You think I want people to see this?" the scarred man gestured with a gloved hand toward his scars, vaguely.

"To see what? A handsome young man?" the doctor asked before he could stop the words. He silently cursed.

"That's not funny," Ace said.

"I wasn't trying to be." Mark kept emotion from his voice and it made Pyro turn and look at the taller man, a scowl on the side of his face that could convey his expression. Blue eyes with crow’s feet met chocolate brown; one perfect, the other bulging in the socket sans a lid for only a moment before Pyro turned away with a huff.

“I don’t like being lied to. Not by someone I trust,” Pyro whispered. It was gravely and rough, just barely loud enough to reach the aging Medic’s ears.

“Can one lie when stating a personal opinion?” Mark asked before moving to his chair to start paperwork. Ace looked at him again, turning around to face the man whose nose was buried in his work, pen busily scratching away at a document.

…

At BLU, Demoman was nowhere to be found despite Sniper recruiting both Pyro and Scout to help him find her.

“Where the hell is that cunt?” he muttered to himself, lifting his hat to scratch just above his temple. He’d already checked respawn, her room, the kitchen and even Engineer’s workshop. A place she would sometimes head off to after a night of herb, to put crazy ideas in the southerner’s head.

With a sigh, he made to head back to his van to grab a change of clothes in order to take a shower.

If not for his keen eyes, he would have missed the little puff of smoke that wafted up from the far side of his vehicle, being used to the smell. He looked around the side of the van to see the female leaning back against it, still sucking on a cancer stick. She pulled back and held the smoke for a second and turned to look at him. Her face read “oh shit” as she exhaled a thick cloud of gray-white smoke.

“Good hidin’ spot, mate,” he said, leaning against the van.

She gave an awkward half-smile that told him “I tried” without saying it.

“No, seriously it’s a good ‘n. I thought you’d be avoidin’ me. This is the last place I’d look.”

“I was avoiding you,” she said before taking another drag.

“Now if only you didn’t smoke so much, eh?” he said with a chuckle. “Ya still got a chance to run if ya wanna try.”

“We can just get drunk or high or something, yah?” she asked, standing up. She was without her flak jacket and blue turtleneck, but still had on a white long-sleeved undershirt which, much to Sniper’s displeasure, showed the whole of her black sports bra.

“Sure thing, mate. I got more brews ‘n bud right now, so ya fancy a drink?” he asked, tipping up his hat and smirking down at the shorter female.

“Please?” she said, holding out her cigarette to him, trying to make a cute face.

“You should know by now that ‘at don’t work on me,” he said and took the cigarette. He smirked anyway and motioned for her to follow. Soon the two had beers in hand and every time she drained one, another was thrust into her hand. For the first few, she was skeptical, but by the sixth, she didn’t care anymore.

...

Sniper slammed her head into the coffee table with a howl as she woke up from a bad dream.

Hurried footsteps approached as she gathered herself up, drawing her knees up to her chest. Heavy and Engineer peered into the room as she picked herself up and flopped back on the couch, groaning in pain.

"Ya'll right there?" Engineer asked quietly.

"Yesh, jost fell," she muttered, dragging her hand down her face.

"Maybe leetle Sniper should keep both feet on ground while drinking, _da_?" Heavy asked, eyeing the girl for a moment.

"Prob'ly," she responded, reaching over between the lewdly-positioned Demoman's legs to take his bottle.

"Oi!" he said, scrambling up from his relaxed position to try and take the bottle back. The girl flashed a wobbly smirk before downing the rest in one go.

Engineer and Heavy shook their heads and left the room, heading back to the kitchen.

"Ah, well..." Demoman said with the slightest of pouts, twisting awkwardly to reach under the sofa and produce a new green bottle. "In't peg ya fer the drinkin' type, lass. Whot's th' occasion?" he asked and pried the bottle open.

"I dun drink much, n'rm'ly," she said, a bit of pink skirting the tops of her soft features.

"Ah kin tell!" he said with a chuckle.

"Whot's yer secret?" she asked, leaning on his calf for support.

"Years’a practice, lass, years’a practice."

"Think it's a problem?"

"I'm still here, ain't I?"

"Ya're, but I bet yer liver ain'." She giggled at her words and Demo scoffed. He took another drink and cradled the bottle in the bend of his arm.

"Well, we ain't talkin' aboot me, are we? Naw tell good ol' Demoman what's got you spooked and lush?" he asked, patting a thigh with his free hand. The female settle between his legs, her back against his chest. "I kin rub that soreness oot fer ye," he said, bringing meaty fingers up to her right temple. She nearly purred at the sloppy massage and found that she couldn't stop the words tumbling from her mouth.

"BLU Spy's a dick," she said, half-pouting. "I dinnow if he was gunna rape me taday er what. But I," she paused as the thick fingers ghosted over her sore forehead. "I uh, had a nightmare. I think he was holdin' muh brother hostage in muh dream."

"Whot makes ya say that?" he asked, running his fingers over her cheek and down her neck.

"I kid hear 'im," she said with a nod as his fingers trailed down under her shirt collar. "He was callin' out fer me an' I couldn't get ta him."

"Why dan ye write 'im tammarae?" he asked, tracing her clavicle, tenderly. He took another swig of his Scrumpy and she reached up to take the bottle. He quickly held it out of her reach, despite her whine.

"I can't," she said, trying to turn her head to look for the alcohol.

"Why noot?"

"Cuz, he ran away when we were kids." She stretched out her arm, but only managed to tug at his white shirt, pulling it up to the elbow. She was surprised by the thick muscle and soft skin as she put her palm over the newly exposed flesh.

"An' 'e never found ye?"

"Nuh," she said, turning a bit more. His hand slipped from her shirt and rested on her shoulder. Her breasts and one hand rested on his chest as she continued to reach for the cider. She could feel a bulge pressing against her lower stomach, but couldn't bring herself to care. His free hand moved back to her face and he lightly touched her eyebrow piercing.

"Me mum always told me tae avoid girls with piercin's," he mused, feeling the rough sensation of the engravings on the gold piece.

"Whysat?" she asked, giving up on getting the drink. She sagged against him and wrapped her arms around his thick torso as best she could with the couch cushions in the way.

"Story fer another time, eh?"

She grunted and buried her face in his neck, half touching cotton, half touching skin. His breath caught in his throat at the press of skin on sensitive skin.

"He has the other one," she whispered into Demoman's neck.

"Ah, whot?"

"My brother, has another ring. Like mine, but different."

He barely heard her words through the rushing of blood in his ears.

"He ran away because mum 'n' dad tried to exorcise 'im."

"Uh, like running and stuff?"

"Naw, like angry old priests with bottles of water."

"Ah!" Demoman arched against the Sniper as she ground down against him. He ran his hand down the curve of her back and pressed her closer. "Careful, lass. I'm droonk, but not so far gone tae know you wouldn’t be doin' this sober," he said, letting his head fall back against the arm rest.

She grunted and pulled down the neck of his shirt, nipping and licking at the salty skin.

"You should talk less," she said against the skin, earning another buck of his hips. She nipped at his jaw playfully, coaxing him into a soft kiss. The lip lock quickly turned heated as bold tongues sought out each other.

The female whined as wide hands pressed her closer to his body, letting her feel every inch of his desire. Her hands fumbled between them, slipping under his shirt to tenderly tease his stomach muscles into twitching before moving up to his chest. She caressed each fold and plateau of his muscles sloppily, but the action was appreciated, evidenced by the way he groaned into their kiss. One hand traveled down to cup her behind, kneading one soft, round cheek with drunken roughness. She moaned softly and tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth before pulling back.

"Oh, Snipah. Yer gonna kill meh," he groaned, pushing up against her.

She giggled against his chin as she kissed it, then nuzzled her nose in his fuzz.

"Nuh-uh," she said, pulling back. Their privates rubbed together and both moaned. "I wannae see yer room," she suggested with another titter. "Show me?"

"Dunnae 'ave ta ask me twice!" he said, sitting up, still holding her to him.

They almost fell over in an attempt to get up, but eventually they stumbled to their feet. She kicked off her shoes and wrapped her legs around his waist. They crashed into walls twice on the way to his room, lips and hands everywhere. They barely got the door shut behind them.

Demoman deposited Sniper on the bed and shed his clothes, climbing over her before she could whine about the loss of contact. He helped her out of her remaining clothes, fingertips leaving tingling sensations everywhere they touched heated skin. He licked and kissed just below her right ear, smirking at her delighted shiver.

She whined, reaching up to pull off his woolen cap, raking her nails through dense curls. He found her lips again, licking a wet path to them and forcing his tongue into the pliant mouth. She moaned around the thick muscle, applying a gentle, lewd suction.

One hand moved to his back, digging her nails in for support as she rocked her body against his. He ground down, reaching back to pull one of her legs up. She got the idea and hooked it around his waist, arching against him. The underside of his cock rubbed against her folds, the thick head parting her labia and teasing her clit.

Tongues dueled sloppily and Sniper nipped more than once, pulling harshly when his hand wandered between their bodies, between their wanting organs just to feel. He dipped the tip of his middle finger into the moist opening and moved it up, teasing and testing the sensitive flesh. His cock slipped over into the crevice where her thigh met her torso and he rocked slowly as he roughly rubbed her clitoral glans.

Her nails dug into his back and her legs quivered when he started rolling the nub between his fore and middle fingers.

“Okay!” she gasped. “Fuck me!”

She thrust hard against the fingers and he hushed her with another kiss. She pawed helplessly at his shoulders when he dipped his fingers down again, pressing two inside. He shoved them deep and she cried out against his lips, thinking she might come right then.

He repeated the action a few times, nuzzling his cheek into her bared teeth which she scraped over his jawline, biting excitedly. When he felt her inner walls seize up, he slipped his fingers out and brought them to his lips. His eye sparkled deviously as he licked them clean. Her whine brought him back to the moment and she writhed against him.

He leaned over her and licked the shell of her ear. His lips brushed the flesh as he whispered; “I wantae eat you oot someday. Make ye have so many orgasms ye see stars.”

She whined and writhed, begging with her hips.

He teased one more time with his knuckle and thumbnail as he lined himself up. She shrieked when he thrust in, hooking her ankles behind him. She wrapped one hand around the back of his thick neck, biting her knuckles of the other.

He massaged her shoulders for a brief moment, letting a soft sigh blow past his lips as she relaxed. He closed his eye against the pleasure of the muscles fluttering around his length.

“Ooh, that’s good,” he sighed, taking her hips in his hands. He tilted her head up with his nose and kissed her throat as he thrust, building up a rhythm. “So good. So lovely,” he whispered.

She trailed her fingers over his biceps and up his neck and face before letting them fall to the bed behind her, fisting her hands in the pillowcase. Her inner muscles quivered again and she gasped, bearing down on his cock. She thrashed against him as she came, squeezing her eyes shut so tight that tears prickled at them.

He moved his hands up to her waist and slammed home a few more times before he released with a fantastic moan.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, just listening to her satisfied cooing.

...

Sniper took Demoman by one arm; Pyro – dressed casually in jeans, boots and a white tee – took her other. Amidst their merry-making, the brunette fire-starter had joined them. He had a few drinks himself, griping about the taste with the others. But it was still alcohol and the more inebriated, and amusing, the blonde got, the less they cared. Sniper had sipped on two, Pyro three. The Demoman had seven or eight, Sniper lost count, and she was snickering and tripping over her own feet as the two walked her into the base. When they bypassed the stairs to the rooms, she started to fidget.

When they took a right to head towards the medbay, she started pulling. Sniper was no weakling, nor Pyro, but the two-hundred some odd pound, drunken female proved to be a bit of a challenge for them. Specifically Pyro, who was intoxicated himself. She thrashed, swearing at them and promising to do horrible things to their genitalia, or faces, no one could be sure as she slipped between German, English and a third language that may as well have been gibberish.

Sniper had the presence of mind to slap his hand over her mouth, knowing she didn’t want others to know that she was German. To which she bit him.

“Yeeowch!” he shouted and pulled his hand back, shaking it as if that would relieve the pain. Pyro grabbed her ponytail and held her head back as she continued to curse and scream.

The two hauled her up to the double doors and when the brunette lifted his hand to knock, the blonde cracked him in the jaw with a surprisingly strong punch. As he cursed and held his face, one large door swung open and knocked him over. Heavy looked out at Sniper holding the flailing Demoman and then around the door at Pyro. Heavy leaned back in the room and said; “Is just teammates. Have been drinking.”

“Naw, Demoman is sick. She keeps puking in respawn!” Sniper said, holding her wrists and standing on one of her feet.

Heavy disappeared, leaving the door open. Sniper, once more with an irritated Pyro’s help, tried to maneuver an angry, flailing Demoman into medbay. Heavy appeared again and snatched the blonde up by her biceps, holding her tightly as he carried her in the room. Sniper and Pyro followed.

“Vhy must zis be a procession? _Herr_ Sniper, _Herr_ Pyro, leave!” Medic ordered, pointing to the door. This made the sloshed female start shrieking.

“C’mon, Doc, we won’t get in the way,” Sniper said. “Besides, ya need me ta tell you what’s wrong with her!”

“She ees vomiting in respawn, you zaid. You ‘ave told me all I need to know.”

As the doctor walked toward the blonde, she scrambled back. She would have fallen off the table had not Heavy been behind her.

He went through the basics, asking questions he barely got answers to, looking her over with a little assistance from Sniper and Heavy as Pyro watched from a short distance.

_"You look like someone I knew a long time ago,"_ Medic mumbled to himself as he gripped her chin, turning her head from side to side. She grit her teeth and pushed back into Heavy’s broad chest in an attempt to get away. _“Marcus something, you may have heard of him. I know him from one of the, hmm, it was Buchenwald. Do you speak German? I think that you do."_

The Russian nearly flinched as the woman suddenly lurched forward, interested in what Medic had to say, trying to eye him warily through a drunken haze.

_“Interesting,”_ he said, moving fingertips under her ears to check for swollen glands. _“He was remarkable. A shame he was a faggot,”_ Medic said with a chuckle. _"He could have been someone… But he had to choose what is unnatural."_ The doctor sighed and shook his head, feeling Demo growl against his gloved hand. _"Ah, yes. Heilbronner was his name."_

_“You think you have the right to say what is natural?!"_ she barked, suddenly looking a great deal less intoxicated. Sniper groaned. Her cover was blown. Not that her accent didn't slip when she was angry, but it could have been passed off as something else. Now, she was outed.

_“I am a doctor,"_ he said casually, checking the glands where her throat met her jaw.

She lunged forward, pulling one arm from Heavy's grip to grab the edge of a tray of Medic's tools and upturn it.

_“Is any of this natural?!"_ she shouted as the tools skittered across the concrete floor. She lunged forward to grab at the momentarily surprised doctor. After all, he’d thought her rage was reserved for Soldier. But before she could get her hands on him, Heavy grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her back against him.

“Leetle Demoman should calm down,” he said in a warning tone. Then, in a lighter, gentler tone, he added; “Doktor is here to help.”

_“Fick dich!”_ she hissed, hunching her shoulders and pulling. She glared at the German. _“What do you know about him?!"_

_“He doesn't like coffee, and-"_ Medic said slowly, and a grin spread across his features. _“He screams like a woman,”_ he almost purred.

The room was dreadfully silent after that was uttered. Andy and Pyro watched in confusion and Heavy loosened his grip as Demoman stilled.

“Bastard!” she shrieked in English, before spitting on him. It was disgusting and had a bit of brown discoloration as it oozed down his cheek.

Medic chuckled darkly as he wiped it away and someone muttered “oh shit”. He walked away, wiping his hand on his coat. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a large bottle with a German label. He counted out some pills and put them in a smaller, see-through container.

“Take one bevore combat. Should help wiss ze nausea,” he said, smirking. He looked to Heavy, for him to let her go, and he looked reluctant. “Let her go,” he said.

The Russian did as told and the blonde snatched the bottle from Medic. Heavy helped her off the table and she stumbled out the door, hissing curses under her breath. Sniper and Pyro left after.

Sniper sighed heavily after he convinced Demoman to sit at the kitchen table. She leaned her head in her arms and only grunted in response to any question she was asked. His patience with direct contact was not as well as he would have liked for it to have been. He could wait all day for a target to appear, but after two minutes of the female not even responding to Pyro poking her with a, thankfully unlit, cigarette, Sniper was ready to call it a day. He even felt that he deserved a little bit of a reward.

“So, uh, we gonna get high?” Pyro asked, looking over at Sniper who scoffed at the sudden question.

“I was plannin’ on it,” he said, stepping away from the table.

Pyro followed Andy as he left the room, then the base altogether. “So, uh…” Pyro said, scratching his scalp. “Can I come with you for a bit?”

“I kinda assumed you were,” Sniper said in response, lighting a cigarette.

“Okay,” Pyro said stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Silence fell over the two as they made their way to Sniper’s van.

“Ya thinkin’ about something, mate?” Sniper asked, pulling open the back door.

“Uhn,” was the response.

Sniper snickered and looked back at the other. “’At so?” he asked, offering his cigarette to the other as he sat.

“It’s personal.”

“Alright.”

“You miss yer parents?” the Pyro asked, catching Sniper off guard. He took in the other’s expression as he took a drag off Sniper’s cigarette.

“Like crazy. You?”

“Nah.”

Sniper raised his eyebrows, but didn’t press the issue. Rather, he took off his hat and set it aside, speaking of his surprise that it made it through the ordeal with Demoman. They both chuckled.

“So, ya got any bud or were ya tellin' Demo the truth?” Pyro asked, finally sitting down, closer to Sniper than necessary.

“I’ve always got bud. Jus’ wasn’t goina tell ‘er that. She wouldna gone high. ‘Ad ta get ‘er on the drink,” he said, packing a bowl. Sniper took the first hit before passing it off to the other man.

“Don’t have a ritual?”

After the older man finally blew out the smoke, he responded as Pyro lit up; “’Eah. It’s called smoke it and shut up.”

Pyro grinned around the mouthpiece.

After a few more rounds and a second bowl shared between them, Sniper reclined back, putting his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Pyro lay beside him, trailing his eyes over the other man’s relaxed form.

“Ya ‘andsome,” Pyro said softly, reaching a finger out to stroke over the blue shirt, down to his belt.

Sniper arched back, sighing softly as he pushed into the touch. “Yeh might not wanna do that, mate,” he warned in a breathy voice. “I’m mighty sensitive and you ain’t so bad lookin’ eitha.”

Pyro seemed to growl, slowly bringing his eyes up to the other’s face. He rested his hand flat against the lower part of Sniper’s stomach.

“Mmnh,” Sniper huffed and breathed heavily through his nose.

“Ya like ‘is?” Pyro asked, slipping his fingers under the shirt, teasing the coarse hairs.

“More ‘n you know,” Sniper said, letting his eyes fall closed, shifting his body to rub against the hand.

“We need ta shut th’ door,” Pyro said, pressing his palm firmly against the lean stomach.

“Yeah,” Sniper said breathlessly, his cock twitching to life.

The Pyro grabbed the door and pulled it closed after Sniper pulled his sluggish limbs completely inside the vehicle.

“I didn’t know ya were inta men,” Sniper said, a lazy grin across his lips as the younger man pawed him.

“Well, ya know, I’snot exac’ly som’n ya go around tellin’ people,” Pyro responded with a huff.

“An’ ya knew I was?” Sniper asked, reaching out for the shorter male.

“I had a feelin’.”

“And if ahm not?”

Pyro stopped and glanced up at the red-faced figure. “I’m high as fuck an’ it’s lonely out here.”

“Good point,” Sniper said with a low chuckle. He slid his hands under the t-shirt and groaned at the feeling of taut flesh over hard muscle, littered with scars. Pyro gasped, fisting one hand in short locks to haul the skinny man into a rough kiss. Both moaned as their tongues dueled, eyes falling closed. Slick muscles slid against one another, exploring moist caverns and teeth until breathing became necessary.

“Caelan,” the Pyro rasped.

“What?” Sniper asked, blinking slowly. He licked his lips.

“My name is Caelan. I wan’to hear you scream it when you come in my ass.”

“Oh, Christ…”

Andy shoved Caelan down, hitching one of the younger man’s legs up around his waist. They kissed and bit each other’s lips as they struggled out of their clothing.

Once nude, Andy braced himself over the lightly-tanned brunette, just looking him over. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his chest, his back arched, hair splayed around his head on the dusty floor.

“Fuck, mate…” Sniper whispered before leaning over to kiss and nip along the clean-shaven jawline.

Caelan pushed up against him, drawing his nails up the other’s back. He growled quietly as a wonderful sensation blossomed in his neck as Andy sunk his teeth in and tugged at the taut skin.

“Fuck!” he hissed, bucking hard against the other, his cock sliding against Pyro’s sweat-slicked torso.

Sniper moaned as the other clawed at his back, nails leaving angry red welts in their wake. He released the tender flesh and kissed it, laving his tongue over the forming bruise.

“Now,” Pyro growled.

“Mn. Turn over,” Andy said into hot, moist skin.

Caelan struggled to get on his stomach as Sniper reached over him to find something like lube. A small tube was produced behind a box and he slicked his fingers, a drop of the cool gel falling on the other’s behind, making him whine.

“Just a tic, sweetheart,” Andy said, teasing the pucker with the lubricated digits. Just as Pyro was about to say something, Sniper forced two fingers in the past the tight ring of muscle, drawing a hiss from the shorter male. He scissored his fingers, moving them in and out until Caelan was wriggling impatiently against him. “Almost there.”

Andy fumbled with the tube that had been in his other hand once more, slicking up his length and dropping the container to the floor.

“It’s been too long. I prolly won’t last,” Sniper drawled, kissing lazily along Caelan’s spine.

“Just do it!”

“As you wish,” Andy said with a chuckle, forcing his cock inside the younger male, groaning when the other seized up, clamping down on him. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned, wrapping sluggish arms around Pyro, giving slow, shallow thrusts. A whined “more” had him picking up his pace.

Caelan moved under him and thrust back, nearly knocking Sniper off of him. Andy grabbed his hips to steady himself and redoubled his efforts, reducing the younger man to a panting mess. Pyro shifted, bringing one hand down to tug at his neglected length, Sniper nuzzling his stubbled jaw into the back of the other’s neck. With a whined “fuck!” Caelan tensed and keened his release, pulling Andy over the edge with him, a hot panting on his ear and a sudden flood of moisture inside him the only indications of Sniper’s release.

Andy rocked his hips slowly, drawing out their orgasms as long as possible.

Half an hour later found a blissed-out Andy draped over an equally satisfied Caelan.

“Ooh fuck, I needed that,” Pyro whined as he stretched out, not caring that the older man was still on top of him or that semen was dripping down his thighs.

Sniper simply grunted and loosely wrapped his arms around the other.

The two laid in silence for another twenty minutes before Sniper spoke; “Ya said ya don’t miss ya family. Whoisat?” He didn’t bother removing his face from the sweaty shoulder.

“Buncha pricks,” Caelan responded. “Thought I was possessed cause I like to burn things. Did exorcisms and shit. Then, when they found… that I… That… Well, this. It just got worse. I miss my sister, though.”

“You got a sister too, eh?”

“’Eah. She’s got a matchin’ ring.”

“Whot?”

“My lip.”

 “In ‘er lip?”

“Dunno where. She just has it. I ran away. Dunno where she’s at.”

Sniper hummed softly as he listened to the other paint a picture of an Irish Catholic family, picture perfect on the outside, but a raging storm of terror behind closed doors. A twin sister, who, while more “normal” than he, often stepped up to the plate to take daddy’s slap that had been aimed at the boy. The same boy then ran away, and though he regrets leaving his sister behind, he joined a traveling circus as a fire-juggler.

“How was the circus?” Sniper asked.

Caelan scoffed. “Well, people paid to see us freaks.”

“You ain’t a freak.”

“Tell my ma that,” Pyro muttered, drifting off to sleep.

Sniper followed shortly after.

…

People came and went from the kitchen, leaving the unconscious Demoman in her seat at the table. Scout nearly tried to wake her, but a warning from Soldier had him flinching away as if she’d burn him at the touch.

Close to midnight, Heavy wandered in for a glass of milk and chuckled at the sight before him. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her cheek on the table and chest pressing against the edge, the only things keeping her semi-upright. She was drooling.

After getting his milk, he sat down next to her and poked her shoulder with one massive finger. She grunted in response and he laughed into the rim of his cup. He pushed his finger into the hard mass again and she groaned. Her arm twitched, but she didn’t do much else.

“Little Demoman should wake up,” he said, biting back more laughter.

_“Fan ta dig,”_ she mumbled, finally able to move her hands to bring them to her ears at the sound of Heavy’s booming laughter.

“What does that mean?” he asked as his jovial quaking subsided.

“Fuck off,” she clarified as she pulled her head up from the table.

“Mm,” he hummed, clicking his tongue. He was grinning as he stood. “Maybe would like some coffee?” he asked as he riffled through the cabinets for a filter and prepackaged coffee.

“Maybe,” she answered flatly.

“Maybe?” he asked with a quirked brow.

“ _Ja_. With sugar.” There was a short pause before she added; “Please.”

“Only because you ask so nice,” he said with a soft chuckle, setting the coffee to brew.

He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the female collect herself. Occasionally, she mumbled in a language he did not understand. She put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, grunting, awkwardly rubbing her puffy creek.

“Demoman does not normally drink,” Heavy stated. She made an odd sound, and he thought that would be the only answer he got.

“I drink often. Just not around people. You see why.”

“Thought you were going to hurt Medic,” Heavy said, turning to tend to the coffee.

“Should have,” she said.

“Alcohol make you mad?” he asked, setting a cup in front of Demoman before making himself one.

“No. Alcohol make me lazy. Medic make me mad.”

“What he say?”

She pursed her lips, making her face wrinkle and Heavy smirk. “Is… blurry. I think… I think my brother.” She stared into the cup as she spoke.

“ _Da_?”

“Mmn, _ja_. My brother.” She picked up the cup and took a careful sip. _“Danke,”_ she said, gesturing at Heavy with the cup.

“Welcome,” he said, knowing the phrase from Medic. “About?”

"Hmm?”

“What did Medic say about brother?”

“Something... ah… He said he knew him in… Buchenwald.”

“Is labor camp?” Heavy prompted after she was silent for a few moments.

“Yah,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Heavy grunted his understanding. She patted herself down, looking for her cigarettes, cursing in what Heavy assumed was German when she could not find them.

“Hold on,” he said, sitting his cup down. He stood up and left the room.

When he returned, Demo looked as though she’d fall asleep and drown in her coffee.

He struck a match on the table and lit the cigar in his teeth as he sat back down. After puffing on it for a moment himself, he tapped Kristina’s arm with the back of his hand and held it out to her.

“Was in ITL for short time with mother and sisters when younger,” he said, watching the blonde smoke. She gave him an expectant look, but he only shrugged. “Was not fun.”

“I would think not,” she said, handing the cigar back.

“Were you…?” Heavy asked, looking her over. “You do not look Jewish.”

“I ain’t Judish, and no. No camp but training for army. In Sweden,” she said, draining the rest of her coffee. She grumbled in another language for a moment and Heavy handed her the cigar again.

“Hm?”

“I said ‘I wish Medic was not so much of a bastard about medicine’.”

“Head hurt?”

“Yah.” She handed the smoke back.

“Maybe drink less next time,” he joked.

“Ngh. Sniper tricked me. To see Medic.”

Heavy raised an eyebrow at this. He puffed on the cigar as he considered his words. “Why do not like Medic? Is not so bad guy. Good teammate. Heal Heavy when need and Ubercharge and play chess. Like good music. Has Tchaikovsky record.”

“I ain't like most Germans,” she answered. Heavy’s laughter had her hands back over her ears.

“What is opposite of _ksenofobiya_?” he asked, passing the cigar to Kris.

“Vad?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, am sorry. A German who does not like other Germans. That slaps me on the knee,” he said, shaking his head. He watched her puff.

“I have good reason,” she said.

“ _Da_. Most of world does.”

After a few minutes of silence, a spent butt and two drained cups of coffee, Demoman stretched and groaned. Heavy put a large hand on her back and she flinched away, hissing at the pain in her head at the sudden movement. Heavy looked confused.

“Do not touch me,” she said, glaring. After a moment, she sighed and added; “Please.”

Heavy held his hands up in a passive gesture, eyeing her curiously as she walked by.

“Thank you for the coffee and conversation,” she said, taking her leave from the kitchen.

Heavy clicked his tongue again and chuckled under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOLT: Because it's not totally obvious who our favorite characters are. (Yes it is.) Like always, if you like what you've read and you wanna read more, click below and leave me a review! Ja ne.
> 
> BB: To be fair, my above-all favorite is on your team, and you made him so evil. Ha. Demo needs more love, and not just from us.


	6. Chapter 6

The RED Sniper cracked an eye open and immediately found herself regretting it. Not only did she have a pounding headache, but everything was hot and sticky. She then realized she wasn’t alone. She made to reach toward the bedside stand for her kukri, but stopped short of touching the polished surface when the previous night’s events sunk in. She cursed under her breath.

Getting out of bed without waking her teammate had been easier than she though it would be. Gathering her clothes was a different story.

She put on her underwear, pants and brazier, and borrowed a shirt from the demolitions expert.

When she opened the door to leave, a voice from the bed stopped her; “Don’t ah get a good mornin’ kiss?”

She hesitated, hand on the door frame. “Look,” she said, eyes trained on the floor outside the door, “Last night didn’t mean anythin’. We were just… takin’ care of our bodies’ needs.”

“Then why are you wearin’ me shirt?” came a playful response.

“I can’t very well walk to my room half-naked.” As she left, she muttered, “This is why I don’t drink.”

…

Breakfast was an awkward affair that morning at RED.

Engineer prepared breakfast, oatmeal and dried fruit, as Soldier sat at the table, grinding his teeth and fidgeting.

“Now, if you keep doing that, you won’t have any teeth left to chew,” Engineer spoke softly, not looking at Soldier.

“It’s oatmeal. It doesn’t fucking matter,” Soldier hissed back.

“This time. Here.” Engineer placed a bowl of oatmeal with a few banana chips and what appeared to be dried apricots on top in front of Soldier. He let his hand rest on the other’s shoulder for the briefest of moments.

“Thanks,” Soldier grumbled, taking a spoon that was held out to him. He dipped it into the soupy mess and brought it to his lips, reluctantly.

The Spy soon wandered in, chuckling to himself as he got his morning toast. He poured himself a glass of water from the tap and took a few of the wrinkled, orange fruit for himself. When Sniper walked in, Soldier looked up.

"Have fun with our resident drunk last night?" he very nearly growled.

Someone muttered "dammit", and she scoffed.

"Fun is relative. Did you have fun with your anger issues?"

Soldier's chair skidded out behind him as he quickly stood up. Spy cocked his head to the side, thinking about intervening, but was pleasantly surprised by Soldier merely stomping out of the room.

"He seems to be handling himself thees morning," Spy noted before taking a sip of water.

"He's had his medication, so he should be good for an hour or two," Engineer replied from over his bowl of oatmeal. He reached out and took Soldier's bowl, pouring the remains into his own. "No use a lettin' it go to waste." He watched as Sniper surveyed the plain breakfast available. "Don't look appetizing?" he asked.

"Not really," she responded, lifting a glob of oatmeal from the pot with a ladle, observing the viscous chow plop back into the rest of the malformed meal.

"All the same," Engineer muttered, "It'd probably be best if you only had bread and water after drinkin' like that last night."

She grunted a 'positive' and Spy offered her a piece of plain toast. She cocked a brow.

"I insist," he said, thrusting the plate at her.

"Thanks," she said, picking the slice up and taking a bite out of the corner.

Spy handed her a glass of water, which she gulped from greedily. "Do be careful, today," he said, setting the plate in the sink. "That BLU Spy is, how do you say, on one."

She was about to ask what he meant when Scout came bounding into the room.

"Oh man," he sounded disappointed, looking at the stove. "Oatmeal?"

"Y'don't have'ta eat it, youngin'," Engineer said with a slight chuckle.

"It's better'n starvin'," Scout responded, scooping some into a bowl, adding copious amounts of sugar and fruit bits. He playfully smacked the Engineer's hardhat on the way out of the kitchen.

"You best bring those dishes back, this time, boy. Or you'll be on dish duty all next week," he called after the lithe male.

A comfortable silence fell over the kitchen as Spy made more toast and Sniper nibbled at the piece in her hand. Engineer took his and Soldier's bowls to the sink and rinsed them out.

"G'd mornin'!" Demoman announced, sauntering into the room with a nearly ear-to-ear grin on his face. He stretched and popped his back with an appreciative groan.

"Mornin'," Engineer replied. "Breakfast is on the stove. Make sure you leave some for Doc 'n' Sparky," he said, wiping his hands on a battered dish towel.

"Heav' been through already?" Demo asked, making himself a cup of coffee. He gave Sniper what could be called an award winning smile. She suddenly found her plain toast much more interesting.

"Yeah, he had a couple bowls and there's plenty left. 'S long as you leave some for the others, have a bunch. Sparky likes the dried apricots, so leave him some," Engineer responded, not missing the way Demo was grinning at Sniper.

"Apricoots? Yuck," Demoman muttered and chuckled, sprinkling sugar over his bowl. "No problem leavin' those! You made a lot today!"

"Well, since supplies are coming in tomorrow, I figured it wouldn't hurt," Ellis responded.

"Och, that reminds me!" Demo said, turning to face the others, "Has anyone taught the new- Uh, where'd she go?" he asked, finally noting the absence of Sniper.

"She slipped out while you were loading your oatmeal with sugar," Spy supplied.

"Shit. Betrayed by yet another weakness!" Demoman moaned.

...

Demoman was the last to wake at BLU, grousing to herself as she dressed and forced herself to the kitchen. She poured a cup of lukewarm coffee and downed it, making a sour face.

"There ya ah!" called the fully-dressed Pyro.

Demoman grunted in response, pouring the last of the brew into her cup.

"You kin'a dropped 'ese last night," he said with a sheepish grin, holding out her lighter and pack to her.

"By 'dropped', you mean you took zem," she grumbled, taking them back. She put a stick to her lips and lit it. "Lighter is nearly empty," she accused.

"Well, you did punch me ha'd enough that I needed a jolt from th' Medigun, sooo," he trailed off, trying not to smile.

"Am sure you deserved it," she said, pulling out a chair roughly, plopping down into it.

"Oh yea', I deserve ta be punched fer makin' yeh see Medic," he said sarcastically. "But, supplies come tomorrow, so you'll be fine."

"I didn't order a new lighter," she said.

"I ordered three."

"Of course you did."

"Well, we only got a few minutes, so hoory up!" he said, slapping her on the back.

When he left the room, she took one of the pills she was given with the rest of the stale coffee and rushed to meet the others.

...

RED was ready to go, the room surprisingly quiet.

Soldier checked and rechecked his ammo, fiddling with his gun.

"Soldier?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, what?" he asked, reloading his rocket launcher for the fourth time in a few minutes.

"How are you feeling?"

When Soldier looked up at him, Mark took the opportunity to study his face. His lips were chapped, but the redness around his eyes had receded a bit.

"I'll survive," he said with a nod.

Engineer let a sigh of relief pass his lips as he shouldered his toolbox. He caught their Medic's eye and gave him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. Medic half-smiled back.

The siren sounded and the gates lowered.

"Let's move out!" Soldier barked.

"Goona cover my back today, lass?" Demo asked, falling in stride next to the quiet female.

"Why?" she asked, "You plannin' on bein' lazy?"

"Ach, noo! I jus' figured, after last night-"

"Well, don't." She put a stop to his attempt at conversation. "My main priori'y is makin' sure tha' Scout doesn't get into our base. Or that their Heavy doesn't stroll up in 'ere like 'e owns the place."

"I was mostly joking," he said, sounding a bit deflated.

She walked off and he shook his head. As he was setting up his own stickies, RED Demo caught his counterpart unaware and blasted her back to respawn.

Upon rematerialziing, she was surprised that she didn't immediately vomit. She wobbled a bit, a nauseous feeling rising in her gut, but the pill she took gave her the strength to quash the feeling back down and hold off what she had come to accept as inevitable. She braced herself on the wall, waiting for a spew that never came. Kristina was surprised to find Heavy appearing next to her, on his feet and without his minigun. He looked around, his eyes bugging.

"Sasha is missing!" he bellowed.

After gritting her teeth at the sound, Kris asked; "Were you holding it when you died?"

"No. Was sitting on rock next to me while eating sandvich."

Demoman cursed under her breath. She flipped on her earpiece. "Engineer, we have problem," she said.

"Damn straight we do! 'At Spah just sapped my dispenser!" came the response.

"Engineer. Heavy spawned without his gun," she said, slow and loud as to be fully understood. An uncharacteristic string of curses filtered through the headset.

"Heavy?" Engineer asked, "Where were ya when ya bit it?"

"D, section three or four," he said, putting on a pair of gloves.

"You are going out unarmed?" Demo asked to Heavy's back.

"Brought sandvich instead of shotgun today," was all he said.

"Stop. Take! Take!" she said, holding out her grenade launcher.

"Is baby gun," Heavy said, looking confused and annoyed.

"Better than unarmed."

"Am always armed," he said, turning to walk away again.

"Dammit, Pyro! Find the Spah!" came Engineer's voice over the headset.

"Whaddaya think ah'm doin'?" The double voice was a little disorienting. Engineer cursed, Pyro's flamethrower igniting right behind him. "Ooh, whot 'ave we here?"

"Don't get distracted!" Engineer shouted, but the Pyro had already wandered off after a target. "Need a little help here!" Engineer pleaded. "Spah went dark, so ah can't call him fer help."

"Where are you? Demoman can be-" Heavy paused, static ringing in his ear.

A loud sigh behind them caught their attention.

"This is a crock of shit," Engineer griped.

"Respawn is not giving weapons right," Kristina said, hauling the slightly shorter man to his feet. "I gathered that," he said, hauling his tool box onto his shoulder. He took out his shotgun and passed it to Heavy. "Find yer gun and yer wife. Demo, come with me. Ah need cover since our little hyperactive Pyro ran off."

"Yah," she said, following the stocky man, glancing back to find Heavy already gone.

"Ooh, ah foond somethin' interestin'," RED Demo said into his earpiece. "Keep the fat bastard away from stone four." One could almost hear the smirk in his voice. He set up his stickies in tactical locations around his discovery. Thirty-two bombs ready to blow, should he point his gun and pull the second trigger.

When a wrangled sentry started picking off his bombs around the far end of the area he was guarding, he aimed and detonated the bombs in that area.

Unfortunately, he took out an ally in the process, and the Administrator felt the need to inform him of his mistake.

Not a full minute later, Sniper was screeching at him through his headset. "You fuckin' blind bastard! Ya fuckin' killed meh!"

"Sorry! Ah'm protectin' a valuable parcel!"

"The intel is inside the base, ya idiot!" she growled.

"I have their Heavy's gun."

After that, the airwaves went silent for a moment before every mercenary and their mother felt it necessary to comment.

"Will you all just shut oop and get the intel while they're a man doon?!" Demo shouted.

Not ten minutes went by before the RED teams victory was announced with what sounded like a sigh of relief.

In BLU respawn, Heavy toppled a shelving unit in a fit of rage.

"Round's over. We can go and getcher gun now," Engineer said, putting his PDA in his toolbox.

"System needs fixed," he grit out.

"Yee-up," Engineer agreed, motioning for Heavy to follow.

"Ya gonna let them go alone, mate?" Sniper asked Demo.

She looked at him as though he suggested she kiss Hitler with tongue. "They are grown men," she said, unloading her weapons. "Do not need me. Heavy can get his gun. Has Engineer if needing help."

"If he needs," Sniper corrected. He smiled sheepishly at her glare. The expression soon fell away. "You got a problem with Heavy?"

"No," she said, throwing her armor in her locker.

"Engineer is with him. He is grown man and will be fine. Am not seeing problem here." She crossed her arms and glared at Sniper. He held his hands up. "Am going to use weight room before others get to it," she said and walked off.

"Suit yerself! Pyro! You co- huh. Won'er where he got off to?" Sniper mused to himself.

...

No sooner than Spy had uttered "my gun is gone", Sniper jumped on the opportunity to get away from Demo with a response of; "I’ll help you find it."

"Ah'll come too!" Demoman added. Sniper cursed under her breath.

"Me too," Soldier grumbled. "I lost my crop."

Spy looked a bit surprised, but held out his hand, gesturing for the others to take the lead. Soldier took a deep breath to calm himself and not lash out at Demoman's flirtatious behavior. Spy gave him a sideways glance and Soldier glared back.

"What?" he bit out.

"Oh, nothing!" Spy said, waving his hand dismissively. "You are doing well, it seems."

"I'd be doing a lot better if you assholes would quit bringing it up."

"My apologies. I did not know concern was frowned upon," he said with a hint of sarcasm edging his voice.

Soldier was about to give a bitter retort when Sniper's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Ya know, it's not like we're fuckin' gettin' married, so can you jus' leave me the hell alone?!"

"Let's go on and leave them to talk, mm, Soldier?" Spy suggested, moving Soldier in another direction whether he liked it or not.

"This fucking system is breaking down," Soldier complained, kicking a piece of plastic he had thought was his weapon.

"Perhaps we should talk to Engineer when we get back," Spy suggested.

"Yeah," was Soldier's half-assed reply.

"I was in cavern one, section two the last time I had my gun. We should check there first, _non_?"

"Yeah."

Inside, they heard voices, faint and in the distance. Spy quirked a brow when Soldier ran off toward them.

"It's over! We won! Lemme go! Stop!"

Scout.

As Spy rounded the corner, he got a good view of Soldier punching the BLU Pyro. Split open his lip as the lithe male in his grasp tried to wriggle out. Scout clawed at the suit to no avail, but Soldier's death grip on his arm had Pyro gasping and his grip loosening. Pyro hissed at Soldier, crying out in pain when the older man bore down on the smaller arm. Scout scurried away bumping into Spy.

"Shitfuck!" he gasped, turning wide eyes at Spy. He calmed when he recognized his ally.

"Soldier," Spy said after clearing his throat, his hand on Scout’s shoulder. Soldier only grunted, his grip tightening. "Soldier, there are no points in hurting him. The battle is over. Any damage now does not count."

"Is the boy okay?" Soldier asked through gritted teeth.

"I believe so. Scout?" Spy looked at him.

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah. I'm fine!" Scout said, scrubbing the nape of his neck with his fingers.

Pyro spat in Soldier's face and he squeezed harder and jerked his wrist, snapping the younger man's arm. Pyro shrieked.

"That's enough, Soldier," Spy put forth, stepping up.

Soldier let go of the other and let Spy pull him back.

Pyro got to his feet and glared the two down as he made his way out of the cave, flamethrower scraping the dirt floor, cradled in his uninjured arm.

"What happened?" Spy asked, lighting a cigarette. He offered them to the others. Scout refused, Soldier lit up.

"I ain't sure, but I think he was either tryin'a rape me or kill me," Scout said.

Spy tilted his head curiously, in a fashion that said 'go on'.

"He, uh, had his hands all up under my shirt. Roasted my hat."

Spy 'hmm'ed and looked over the youngest member of the team.

"You are unpenetrated?"

"What?!" Scout shrieked. Spy and Soldier both grimaced at the sound. "Yeah! I'da never let that happen! I'd bite his dick off if I had'ta!"

"Good then. Oh," he said, noticing a glint in the distance. "My gun."

Soldier noticed a shiny object himself and picked it up. The half-masked Pyro's lip ring. He grinned and pocketed the metal.

"Soldier, we should find your crop and head back. I have to cook tonight, unless Demo and Engineer are still having their contest."

...

Heavy retrieved Sasha without issue, and after cleaning and cooing at it, he put it in its temporary bed and headed to the rec room to take out his aggression on the unsuspecting punching bag and weight set.

Demoman racked the weights she was using upon noticing someone enter the room.

"No need to stop," Heavy said, adding the amount the weights totaled in his head. "One hundred and forty five," he said. "Is pretty good. Would not think your chest could handle!"

"I lifted you recently," she said, wiping her brow.

"Lifting with legs not same as lifting with arms and chest. Can spot Heavy?"

"I," she paused for a moment, "I don't think I can."

"Am only going one-fifty today. Can spot, _da_?" he asked, gathering up the extra weights.

"Yah," she gave in with a sigh.

...

"Ace," Mark called, waving his hand in front of the other's mask. "Ace, are you alright?"

"Uhrr, yurr," he said, looking up at the doctor. "Uhr thurrnk wrr nerd tur trrk," he said slowly.

"What's the matter?" Medic asked, closing the door.

"Curr wrr trrk urn yurr rrrm?"

"Sure," Medic said, though it sounded more like a question.

Pyro waddled off to the office that set off from the medbay. Mark closed that door behind them and sat at his desk, motioning for the other to sit. He did and seemed to curl in on himself.

"Thrss wurrss uhr brrd urdurr," Pyro rasped.

"What was that?" the blonde asked.

"Thrss. Uhr brrd urdurr."

"Take the mask off, Ace," Mark said with a sigh.

"Uhnuhr!" Pyro gasped.

"It's going to be hard for me to help you if I can't understand you."

"Uhr nurr," Pyro mumbled.

"Ace," Mark stated, trying to keep his voice even. "Look at me."

"Uhnuhr!" Pyro gasped again.

"Look at me."

A seemingly soulless gaze was cast in his direction. Mark pointedly tilted his head toward the other.

"Uhrhrrr," Pyro whined.

"The mask?"

Pyro sighed heavily and finally removed it.

"Now, what is it?" Mark asked, smiling at the other.

"Did I upset you?" Ace asked, shrinking back a bit.

"Vhat? No. Why would you think that?" Mark asked.

"I... You... Shit. I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his good eye with the palm of his hand.

"You haven't done anything wrong," Mark said, folding his hands in front of him.

"I think I have," Pyro said, looking everywhere but at Mark. "I didn't mean to, though, I swear."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked.

"Things changed. Between us. We changed, I mean, you changed." He fidgeted for a moment. "Can we, uh, can we light a candle, please?"

"Certainly," Mark said, opening a drawer. He took out a large candle and set it on a table in a saucer. He struck a match and lit the wick, shaking out the flaming cardboard. "Now," he said, once more folding his hands on the desk. "What changed?"

Pyro stared at the flame, licking his lips. Mark waited, his head tilted a bit. Pyro chanced a glance at him out of the corner of his lidless eye before looking away. He said nothing.

"How is your eye? Perhaps you should put drops in it?"

"It's pretty much useless. Not worth saving at this point," Pyro mumbled.

"If you can see out of it at all, it is worth saving."

Pyro let out a raspy sigh. "I've had to sleep with a plastic thing over it at night so it wouldn't get scratched if I roll over in my sleep for the past ten years. It gives me nightmares. I hate it," he said. "I'd be better off if I just got rid of it entirely."

"It wouldn't be too hard to make you a new eyelid," Mark said.

"I thought you liked me the way I am!"

Pyro's outburst startled Mark.

"I do," Mark said, biting back a stammer, "I'm just thinking about vhat's best for you."

"I'm sorry," Ace said, resting his forehead on his hand, closing his good eye tightly. "It's just... You're changing and I'm scared and fuck! I'm probably crazy!" He slapped his gloved hands on the table.

"You're not crazy," Mark said, tentatively reaching out for one of the hands. Pyro flinched back.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," he whispered.

Mark sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You're, ah, schizophrenic," he said. "You have trouble discerning reality from fantasy and-"

"I know it's not real to you, but it's real to me," Pyro nearly whimpered.

"I understand that," Mark said, trying for the gloved hand again. Pyro let him take it, watching warily. "I vish I could see Vhat you see," Mark said, applying a gentle pressure. "Now, tell me what you mean by 'changing'," he cooed.

"Ah, it's..." Ace tried to pull his hand back, but Mark pressed down just hard enough that he stopped his escape attempt. "You're beautiful," came the whisper.

One of Mark's brows nearly met his hairline, and that was quite a feat since it was starting to recede. "I'm sorry?"

"I can't even bear to look at you anymore, sometimes. I mean, I see you as you, but then I see you with skin like emeralds and gossamer wings," he trailed off, looking at the hand over his.

"What do you see right now?" Mark asked.

"Long fingers, sparkling with the colors of the rainbow and-" He paused, his good eye glassing over, "And diamonds, and-" He suddenly pulled back. "I'm sorry!" he gasped, covering his ears with his hands.

"It's okay, Ace," Mark said, laying his hands on the table. "What did I look like before?"

"Like everyone else. Little. Cute. I'm scared," he muttered.

"There's nothing to be scared of. I am here."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

...

"And then she punched him in the jaw!" Heavy declared, racking his weights before letting out a hearty laugh. "Oh, my leetle sister is not taking shit from no man!"

Kristina let a bitter smile cross her face.

"Demoman said had brother. Tell Heavy?" he asked, sitting up.

"I would rather not, sorry," she said, offering him her towel. He wiped his face and pursed his lips.

"Is fine. Hungry? Will make food. Come," he said, holding out his hand which was promptly ignored. "Liking, uh, what do you call- casserole?"

"I'll eat anything," she said with a shrug.

"Maybe is why you get sick in respawn," he said with a chuckle.

...

"What did I do wrong?" Demoman asked, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

Sniper was about to shoot an angry response his way when she stopped and studied him. "You've practiced ‘at look, 'aven't yeh?" she asked, deflating a bit.

"Ooch, ahm I that obvious?" he asked with a fake sheepish smirk.

"Yes!" she huffed. "Actin' loike that is not likely to get you in my pants again."

"Tch, ye act like that's all I'm after," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"What more do yeh want? It's not like we c'n 'ave a relationship out here!"

"Why noot?"

"Why not? Why not?! It's a bloody war out here!" She stomped her foot, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

"It's noot like we actually die or 'n'ythin'," he said. "It'd be nice ta have somethin' tae come home ta', don'tcha think?" He watched a muscle in her jaw flutter before taking her by the arms at the elbow; "After all the guts 'n' glory, a little romance tae remind us there's a world outside," he said. "The company of workin' gals only goes so far. Sometimes ye wanna home cooked meal instead'a fast food."

"A food allegory. Really?"

"Ache, I've got me weaknesses!"

This time his sheepish smile was genuine and she found herself unable to be mad. But when he attempted to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she pushed him away.

"This is too intimate. Jus’," she paused, "Back off fer now."

"We've already had sex. Ye can't get much more intimate than that." Upon noticing her glare, he held his hands up in mock surrender. "But, fine! I'll relent for now."

She walked away, leaving Demo confused and craving one of his vices.

She flopped down on the ratty old couch in the commons room, startling the lonesome Scout.

"Jeezushit! Warn me next time!" he griped.

She groaned and kicked off her boot, rubbing at her foot.

"What's wrong witchu?" he asked.

"I've been all over the world, killed a beast on every continent, and yet my feet can't handle a little angry stomping..."

"That BLU bitch piss you off again? Man, they got problems ova there!" he grumped, slumping back into the sofa.

"That's not what I was talkin' about, but whatdya mean?" she asked, kicking off the other boot for symmetry's sake.

"Uhh, well... I needed an adult earlier."

"How old are you?" she asked, giving him a sideways glance.

"Twenty-three! It's a sayin', learn it!" he said with a pout, his scrunched-up face looking less than twenty-three in that moment.

"Well, okay," she said haughtily. "Why did you 'need an adult'?"

"That crazy guy in the half-mask had his hands all up in my business!"

"'Up in your business'? Why were you shitting where a BLU could find you?" she asked, looking downright horrified.

Scout slapped his own forehead so hard that it echoed. "No, uh, ya know what? Forget it. Let me rub your foot."

Her foot was in his lap before she could protest. Any words she might have had died on her tongue at the press of nimble fingers into the sore arch.

"So, like, I'm convinced that the entire BLU team is perverts and bullies," he said.

"Yeah," the breathy response.

Like, that creepy guy in the half-mask."

"Yeah."

"And that bitch and her attack dog."

"Yeah."

"'N' that Spy."

"Yeah, wait- what?"

"He attacked you."

"How'd you know?"

"Duh, I heard it on the headset. I asked Engineer what he did to his student, or whatever, and, yeah..."

"What did he do?" she asked, pulling her foot back, not commenting on his tented slacks.

"Uh, let's just say you should avoid him. Kay?"

"Uhh, yeah..."


	7. Chapter 7

The blonde Scout flinched and cursed, jumping across the hall and colliding with the wall at the noisy outburst from Pyro's room. The man roared and upturned something that smacked the ground with a loud 'bang'.

Scout bolted down the stairs and away from the pissed off maniac.

When he got to the kitchen, he wrenched open the refrigerator door and took out a soda.

"Ya hear that bangin'?" he asked Heavy.

"Scout must be heavy sleeper," the bigger man responded. "Has been at it all night." Heavy looked tired.

"What is wrong widim?" Scout asked, chugging half the can.

"Is missing something."

"Well shit!" Scout said, sitting by Heavy, who was waiting for the reheated remnants of last night's dinner.

Demoman wandered in and made to refill the coffee pot, but noticed it had already been done.

"Thank you," she said to Heavy, who nodded in response. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few eggs, but Heavy stopped her; "Am reheating leftover if want," he offered.

"Oh, that would be nice," she said, taking her mug in hand and sitting next to Heavy.

"So, like, are you two an item now?" Scout asked, bouncing one leg impatiently.

Demoman spit out her coffee in response. Heavy laughed. Her glare did not make the smirk waver.

"Scout," Heavy scolded lightly, "Is not polite to ask such question."

"Who gives a rat's ass about being polite out here?" Scout asked.

A loud 'thunk' in the hallway drew their attention.

"Ah gawd. The monstah emerges!" Scout whispered, looking around for an escape route.

Pyro turned the corner, his lips turned up in a snarl. "How long?" he asked.

" _Vas_?" came the startled question from Demoman.

"Until battle starts," he grit out. "Because I will tear tha’ bastard limb from limb and rip off all of his fingernails-" He tore open a cabinet and started pulling breakfast items from it. "-And dip bloody wounds in salt and-" Scout jumped out of the way when Pyro walked by to rip open the refrigerator door. "-Cut off his eyelids and-"

"Who? What are you talking about?" Demo asked, setting down her coffee.

"That _cac ar oineach_ , the RED Soldier!" he snapped, crushing the egg in his hand. He muttered some angry words and flicked crunchy, gooey mass onto the floor, bits of yolk splattering a lower cabinet.

"Pyro should sit," Heavy said, standing.

"Would you sit if someone took your gun, _asal saill_?! No, you wouldn't! Don't tell me to sit! I'll rip him into so many pieces that respawn won't find all of him!"

"Pyro," Kris said firmly.

"Whot?" he hissed.

She held out a lit cigarette and he snatched it up, puffing greedily. "Four hours until game today," she said, lighting herself a new one. "Supply day, remember?"

Pyro rubbed gloved hands over his face. He growled out a few curse words he'd picked up from her and she almost chuckled. He sagged into a chair.

Soldier poked his head into the room. "What's all the racket?" he demanded, a touch too loud.

"Your counterpart took my ring!"

Soldier’s eyes widened a bit at the sheer volume. Heavy grabbed a dish towel and pulled the reheated remnants from the stove. As Soldier spoke to Pyro, he put three portions on plates. He sat one where he had been sitting, one where Demo had been sitting and one in front of Pyro.

“Then you must challenge him and take back what is rightfully yours!” Soldier said, stepping into the room as Scout blazed a trail out. “Sun Tzu said-“

“We’ve all heard yer speech, Soldier,” Pyro complained.

“Then do what you must do!” Soldier said, pouring himself some coffee.

Pyro ate when a fork was placed in his hand and left the room quickly after.

…

Mark woke with a groan. He tried to bring his hands to his face, but soon realized one was tangled in a gloved grip.

“Ace,” he whispered, then coughed a bit, covering his mouth with his free hand. He briefly thought about his antibiotics shipment that would be in that day, until the reality of the situation sunk in. He had fallen asleep at his desk, his fingers laced with his younger teammates, leaving a candle burn all night. A candle that had melted all over his desk. He righted his glasses, feeling the mark they had left on his cheek from being pressed against the skin for too long.

He carefully untangled his fingers from the others and looked him over. He would probably be a bit sore from sleeping like that, and he hoped the other would be behaving somewhat normally when he woke up.

Mark slipped from the room, shutting the door behind him. He stretched and grumped about an ache in his back. He popped a few painkillers and grabbed a fresh change of clothes, hoping he had time for a shower. As luck would have it, he did and showered alone. He figured the others were chatting happily about what they were getting on the supply train, so he took his time washing his hair and just generally enjoying the spray.

He dried and left his dirty clothes in his small shower room locker and headed to the kitchen to snag some food for Ace and himself.

Soldier was smirking, sitting at the table with one leg crossed over the other, a cup of coffee in hand. Engineer and Demoman were bickering over the stove and Scout was peering over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“You’re looking well, Soldier,” Mark said, slipping in to sit at the table, a seat between Ken and him.

“Yeah, I’m doing pretty good today,” he said, smirk broadening.

“Oh?” Mark inclined his head, urging the other on.

“Yup, I saved one of our boys yesterday and got a trophy out of it.”

“Did respawn leave you a tooth?” Mark asked with a slight chuckle.

“Better,” Soldier said, sitting his coffee down to dig in his pocket. “Look at this.” He produced a small gold half-ring, holding it up for Medic to see.

“What am I looking at, Soldier?”

“Yer lookin’ at the enemy Pyro’s lip ring. I punched it right out of his stupid face when he was tryin’ to molest the new kid,” Soldier said, sounding rather proud.

“Is that so?” the blonde sat back, crossing his arms.

“Yes sir!” Soldier said, looking over the ring.

When Sniper wandered in, Soldier perked up again; “Hey, I defended one of yer boy toys last night and look what I got for it!” He held out the ring, but she didn’t even look, heading straight for the coffee.

“Tha’s nice.”

“Look!” he said, standing up. He thrust the ring in her face and she grabbed his wrist to pull it away from her face so she could actually see what he was so excited about. She gaped like a fish out of water for a moment, then tried to take it from him. He pulled back, but she didn’t relent, so he held it up out of her reach.

“Give me that!” she demanded, stomping on Soldier’s foot. He hissed in pain. “That’s my brother’s ring!”

“What?” Soldier asked.

“That’s my brother’s ring! Give it to me! Tell me where you got it,” she growled, bracing herself with one hand on his shoulder, reaching out with the other toward the object.

“This is my trophy. I am keeping it. It looks valuable. I got it from the Pyro in the half-mask.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared as Sniper shoved Soldier none-too-gently. He stumbled back and squared up, clenching the ring in his fist.

Demo handed his spatula to Engineer, who readily took it, and grabbed Sniper before she could take a swing at her ally. “Easy now,” he said, holding her by her biceps from behind.

“ _Get off_!” she hissed in a language that wasn’t English and pulled against his grip.

Soldier looked down at Sniper through narrowed eyes. Medic stood up and put his hand on the other’s chest, pushing him back a few paces.

“Soldier,” the blonde said. “Perhaps we should compare the ring to hers. If it is a family heirloom, it would not be kind to keep it from its rightful owner.”

“But I earned it,” Soldier said.

“I’ll give you fifty points to give it back,” Medic offered.

Soldier turned his glare at the doctor; “Two-hundred.”

“One-hundred. I’ll take it by force, if I must.”

Soldier sized up Mark for a moment. He relented, uncurling his fingers, giving the blonde access to the ring.

Mark plucked the ring from Soldier’s hand, not missing the crescent-shaped scars in his palm. He walked over to Sniper and held the ring up to hers to compare the two. Demoman ran one hand up and down Sniper’s arm as she fidgeted in anticipation.

“Yes, it is a match,” Medic said, holding the ring out to Sniper, who snatched it up before he even relinquished his grip.

She bolted out of the kitchen.

“One-hundred points, Doc. I’m holding you to it,” Soldier said.

“Yes, yes. I will transfer them to you after inventory,” Mark said, sitting back down. He ran his fingers through his hair.

Not a minute later, Demoman sat a glass of orange juice on the table in front of Mark and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Mark said.

“Noot a problem,” was the response. Demoman tore into a fresh bottle of Scrumpy as he turned his attention to finding out what havoc Engineer had wreaked on breakfast.

…

The BLU team lined up for the supply train, Demoman and Medic with dollies in hand.

Men in blue uniforms unloaded and traded a full cart with Medic’s empty one, going over a checklist with him. The same was done with Demoman, though several extra-large crates were left with her. Heavy and Engineer picked up what they could carry and Demoman rolled her new, full dolly into the base, followed by two uniformed workers with full carts of their own. Miss Pauling walked up, looking over a clipboard in hand before turning her attention to the group.

“As soon as the others get back, we will pass out personal point orders and announce the winner for this week,” she said, adjusting her glasses.

Medic was the first to return and greeted Miss Pauling with a polite nod. Sometime later, Demoman, Heavy and Engineer returned, each greeting her as well.

“Okay, the winner of this week’s point contest is,” she paused, flipping a page on her clipboard. “Scout.”

He cheered and jumped forward as another uniformed worker brought out a brown paper and twin-wrapped parcel. He ripped into it, throwing the wrapping aside.

“Aww fuck yeah!” He turned to Engineer and showed him the new cap he’d received. “It’s the newest Yankees design!” He took off his old cap and put the new one on, beaming. “This’ll really piss off that Sox fan!”

“I thought you’d like it,” Miss Pauling said, smiling.

“Thanks so much!” The freckled young man launched himself at her, wrapping the woman in a tight hug.

“Ha ha, you’re welcome. Now, I have to go.” She disengaged herself from the ecstatic male and adjusted her glasses. “Personal orders will now be passed out.”

…

A series of events similar to those at BLU happened at RED, nearly an hour later. Heavy was the winner of their point contest and the proud new owner of a brown ushanka. He donned it in good humor as he carried in his personal orders.

“I dunno,” Scout said, “If I were to ever do anything with a guy, he’d have to be really pretty and have a small penis and I’d be on top.”

“What? Why a small penis?” Sniper asked.

“Uh, like, so I could pretend it’s an overgrown-“ He paused for a moment. “Lady part.”

Sniper laughed, full and hearty. She seemed to have calmed down significantly.

“Hey, shaddup! This isn’t a conversation we should be having anyway!” Scout said, sounding scandalized.

“I would say,” Heavy put in as he rounded the corner.

“Ah geez! You’re gonna get me in trouble, lady!” he accused.

She tittered.

…

The administrator shuffled some papers around on her desk, unburying her ashtray to stub out a cigarette. “Miss Pauling,” she called out to the woman behind her.

“Yes?” came the quick response.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes. Why?”

“If you were on opposite sides of a war, what would you do?”

“Um, well, that depends.” She trailed off, thumbing the edge of the folder she was holding.

“On?”

“The situation. If I believed in the cause strongly, I-“

“If you were RED and they were BLU,” the administrator interrupted.

“Oh, then I’d kill them no problem, because I know respawn would pick them up.”

“Thank you, Miss Pauling.”

“Is this about the Heilbronners?”

“As well as the Devlins.”

“Well, the Heilbronners have been here for two years and she’s killed him plenty of times. I can look up the numbers, if you like.”

“Sixty-seven.”

“Is there a problem, then?”

“He hasn’t killed her once.”

“Well,” Miss Pauling shuffled a bit, “He is a Medic. They’re not exactly supposed to be spending their entire time killing.”

“He’s only made six kills in his time here. Four times Spy, once the old Demoman and the other Medic. They’ve had a losing streak lately.”

“You believe it’s his fault?”

“I’m unsure as of yet.”

“Should I suggest RED get a new Medic?”

“Not yet, Miss Pauling. Thank you for your assistance.”

…

When Heavy left the room, Sniper looked at Scout with a face that had him suspicious.

“Hey, that Pyro seems to like you, roight?”

“Yeah,” he trailed off, not liking where this was going.

“If I can’t talk to him today, will ya do it for meh? Ask ‘im if he has a sister named Reagan. Got that? Reagan.”

“I don’ wanna, but you’re cute. So I’ll try.”

…

BLU Pyro slammed his fists on the gate. “Come the fuck on!” he hissed, rattling the surprisingly light structure.

The others stood by awkwardly as they waited for the siren.

“Go! Move! Let me out of here!”

Spy leaned over to Engineer. “Did you call about the system?” he asked.

“Yeah. All they said was ‘duly noted’.”

Spy ‘hmm’ed’ thoughtfully and checked over his equipment, wanting that days battle to be a quick affair.

When the siren sounded they all dispersed.

Caelan set the foe Demo ablaze and managed to avoid grenades until his charred corpse dropped. The RED Sniper tried to say something to him, but was roasted alive for not doing her job right. Twenty minutes and four corpses later, the female approached him again, gun on her back. She felt the heat from the flamethrower before she even moved her tongue to form the words she meant to say. Demoman shoved her away and splattered the half-masked Pyro and Ace put her out with an air blast.

“Are you two followin’ me?!” she accused.

“Duhrr,” Ace said, loud and clear, even through the mask.

“Well, I don’t need yer help!”

“Urhurr,” Ace mumbled and ran off in the other direction.

Demoman sighed and took a swig of his Scrumpy. He held it out to Sniper. “Ah thin’ ya do,” he said as she drank.

Heavy glowed blue with an ubercharge, mowing down the members of RED that slipped past the rampaging Pyro. Medic chuckled behind him and said something about the charge being unnecessary. Heavy didn’t hear it as he watched the female Sniper scurry across the field without a weapon in hand.

“Heavy?” Medic asked, accidentally bumping into the mountain of a man when he stopped.

After careful consideration he riddled the slight form with expensive bullets and said: “Is nothing, Doktor.”

Kris found Mark with a syringe gun in hand. “Are you planning to kill someone today?” she asked.

He flinched at a loud pop and looked up to find a sticky bomb clinging to an outcropping of rubble above him. He looked back at her and seemed to stare through her. “ _Es tut mir leid_ ,” he said.

When she opened her mouth to ask what he meant, she found her thighs pierced with several needles. Death was not as swift as she would have liked it to have been.

Caelan grinned menacingly at the battered Soldier.

“Got past Heavy, did ya? Good, looks like ‘e saved me the trouble of immobilizing you,” he trailed off, grabbing a fistful of red coat. “What should I start with? How about yer eyelids? Mm.” Caelan pressed his thumb against the lid for a moment, feeling the panicked shifting of the organ behind, before grabbing the lashes. “Guhuh!” he gasped, dropping Soldier.

Caelan found himself in respawn, cursing the Spy who knifed him. Andrew joined him moments later, shaking his head as he stood up.

“Bloody Soldier got me with a rocket,” he complained.

“I’ll kill him!” Pyro hissed.

“That is part’a your job,” Andy joked. When it wasn’t received well, Sniper sighed. “Look, mate, go Spy-check. I ain’t seen hide nor hair a’that bastard today.”

“He just knifed me.”

“Where?”

“The A block.”

“So he’s close by. Go’n check for me,” Sniper asked.

“Fine,” Cae growled and headed off into the base.

Shortly after Pyro and Sniper left, Engineer respawned with an exasperated sigh. Then he looked down at himself.

“What the devil?!” he shouted.

He scrambled to his feet and pulled his button up down to cover his briefs. No boots, no coveralls. He’d reformed in just his shirt, socks and underwear.

“Nice legs!” Soldier teased upon achieving consciousness. “I was unaware we were having a ‘no pants’ party.”

“A wh- We’re not. Th’ damn ‘spawn ate my britches,” he griped, a tinge of pink on his heating face.

“Oh,” Soldier said, removing his hands from his fly. “Carry on, then!” Soldier left the embarrassed man.

Cae walked in and raised an eyebrow at Dell. “I’m not even gonna ask,” he said, hooking up a fuel line to his gear.

Engineer grumbled, heading into the base, toward the phone. He’d had enough of the malfunctioning system.

Ace caught up to the emotionally-compromised Sniper, watching her reckless behavior from a few meters away. In his eyes a dark portal erupted behind her and he turned on his flamethrower and charged.

A skittering noise drew Caelan’s attention from his refueling. He turned off the rig and set his flamethrower aside in favor of a barbed wire-covered axe. He cornered the searching boy, curious as to why his arrival in the base hasn’t been announced. He hit the lithe figure with the blunt end of his axe, sending him crashing into a wall. Scout lashed out with his bat, but hit nothing. Pyro raised his axe and stepped in, looking down at the startled young man.

“Reagan!” he blurted out.

The BLU Pyro looked like the wind was taken out of his sails, his shoulders sagging. Scout made to stand at his full height, but was shoved back into the wall by the handle of Caelan’s axe.

“What?” he hissed.

“Do you, uh- I can’t breathe!” he exaggerated. Caelan held fast, his jaw set. “Do you have a, uh, sista named Reagan?”

“What d’you know about her?”

“She’s our Sniper!” he blurted again.

Pyro dropped him without a word and ran off.

Reagan looked down at the seared Spy, then up at Ace’s retreating form. “Fuck it,” she muttered, crouching by the corpse. She tore open his pants leg at the thigh and leaned down, tearing at the flesh with her teeth.

Dell dropped the phone mid-sentence when he heard the pained screaming from respawn. He ran for the room, seeing Spy with a torn pant leg and a chunk of flesh missing. The muscle tissue shined brightly, but the wound didn’t appear to be bleeding. Spy gaped at his leg, moaning his misfortune. His thigh spasmed, and he grasped at the Engineer’s shirt as the other knelt by him.

“What in tarnation?” Dell asked breathlessly. He turned on his earpiece. “Uh, Medic, getcher ass to respawn. Hop to it!”

Spy gasped for breath.

“Son, you’ll hyperventilate if you keep that up,” Engineer said, helping Spy sit up.

“What did respawn do to me?” Spy asked, feeling at his leg. His leg twitched violently when he tentatively touched the wound with gloved fingers.

“Don’t touch it,” Dell said, snatching up his wrist. “You just wait for Medic, ya hear?”

“I’m perfectly capable of- oh dear,” he said upon seeing the wound again.

Medic rushed in, Medigun at the ready. “Now what is-“ He stopped and gave the two on the ground a nearly horrified look. “Respawn malfunctioning?” he asked. Medic knelt by the two. “Zis looks like an animal attack,” he said.

“You can heal me wiss ze Medigun, right?” Spy asked, pushing himself up, curling his other leg up under himself.

“Yes, but I sink I should take measurements first to try and find out vhat did zis,” Medic said, rubbing gloved fingers over his jaw. “Does it hurt?”

“At first it did, but now it is just tingling. It is an odd sensation.”

“Maybe a part’a ya is still tryin’ t’ ‘spawn,” Engineer put forward.

“Maybe.”

Measurements were taken and the wound sealed up. Spy felt his leg a few times to make sure that there was no chunk missing. Dell went back in the base and picked up the dangling receiver.

“Ya still there? Yeah. Spy just respawned with a chunk missing from his leg.”

“Cease fire! The round is over!” the Admin’s voice boomed. “Return to your base and await further instructions.”

…

Reagan and Caelan caught sight of one another just as the ceasefire was announced. She ran toward him, but the admin’s booming voice repeated the orders.

“It’s okay!” Reagan shouted. “I have your ring!”

For the first time that day, Caelan smiled.

At RED, Mark went to his office after asking everyone to take inventory of their weapons and personal items. He left the door to the small room and the doors to medbay open.

After a while, Engineer wandered in.

“Are you missing something?” Mark asked.

“Naw,” he said, taking off his hardhat. “Only one who’s missin’ anything is Sniper, and she’s only missin’ a bear tooth from her hat.”

“Is it my turn to cook, then?”

“Naw, we’re having pizza and cola tonight. Scout’s ordering right now ‘n’ I’m gonna go pick it up in a half hour.”

“Need someone to talk to?” Mark asked, filing away his paperwork.

“Naw. But I know someone who does, but you need to sober up first.”

“I only took one for an ache in my back,” Mark said, trying to sound reassuring.

“Yeah? Then why are your eyes as big as saucers?”

“I did not say it was not a powerful one!” Mark chuckled a bit.

“Well, I’m gonna bring you some coffee and you’re gonna sober up and talk to our muffled partner,” Engineer said, putting his hat back on.

“No! Uh, please. No coffee. Milk, perhaps?” Mark had the grace to blush after his outburst.

“Right then. But Mumbles is sittin’ in the hall, curled up like a kitten. After you get somethin’ in you, ya need ta talk to ‘im.”

“Yes. I will.”

…

BLU Pyro tackled Sniper to the bathroom floor, nuzzling his face into the other man’s neck.

“Could ya at least let me tuck it up first, mate?” Andy asked with a chuckle.

“My sister!” Caelan cheered. “I saw ‘er!”

“D’ja hit yer head?”

“No! She’s the other Sniper!” He hopped up and hauled the taller man to his feet.

“Ah, wot now?”

“Reagan! My sister I told you about! She’s ‘ere! Well, there, but here!”

“Ya talk to ‘er?”

“Kinda! Come on! Let’s go to yer van! I wanna get high and tell ya stories!”

“That,” Sniper paused and stifled a chuckle, “Kinda sounds like fun.”

Caelan grabbed Andy’s hand, but the other pulled out of his grip.

“Sorry. Not where the others can see, luv.”

…

“Ye smoke?” Demoman asked, offering his pipe to Sniper.

“No, thanks,” she said, holding up her hand.

“Ye doin’ alright? Fancy a drink?” He slid his Scrumpy across the kitchen table at her.

“A little bit would be nice, but I’m not getting’ drunk again.” She picked up the bottle and sipped on it.

“That’s ookay. I’ll get droonk enough for the both of us,” he said with an award-winning grin, smoke curling up from his lips.

Spy dropped in to get a light from Demoman, having misplaced his lighter, then they were alone again.

“Sooo,” Demoman said, Reagan cast him a wary look over the bottle. “Ye wanna go oot ta eat tonight?”

Reagan took a few long pulls from the bottle before setting it down roughly. “Like a date?”

“If that’s how ye wantae look at it,” he chanced.

“Demo-“

“Tavish. Tavish DeGroot.”

“Tavish,” she tried slowly. She felt a tug in her chest at the way he smiled. “Don’t take offense ta this, but, as much as I think I would like that…” She paused to consider her next words. “The rest of the world isn’t as open to interracial relationships.”

His smile faded as he puffed on the pipe. “Ye’re right,” he said, sighing out a thick cloud of smoke.

There was a short silence.

“Maybe we could take some pizza oot ta the battlefield and watch the soonset? ‘N’ ye can tell me all aboot ye’re brother.” His voice held a hopeful inflection.

“That sounds reasonable.”

“He’s not gonnae try ta kill me more when he finds out I’m after yer heart, is ‘e?”

“Maybe,” she said and chuckled.

…

Demoman laid on her bed in only a pair of brown trousers and a white t-shirt, taking a much needed nap when there came a knock at the door. She groaned and wiped the sleep form her eyes. “It’s unlocked,” she said.

The door slowly opened and Heavy stepped in, a book in hand. “Was Demoman sleeping?” he asked.

“Was trying to,” she said, looking at him expectantly, halfway to sitting.

“Should come back later?”

“You are already here.”

“Ah, am wondering. Does Demoman like to read?” He closed the door and looked around the room. It was plain, the only décor being a poster of a sleek car with a scantily-clad woman on the hood and the clothes and beer bottles that littered the floor. Heavy arched a brow at the poster, but waited for a response.

“Uhn, usually automobile magazines. But I do pick up a book on occasion,” she said, sitting up.

“I was getting this for Medic to read so we have more to talk about than music and games, but wonder if you would like to read it first,” he rambled, holding out a book.

“ _Lolita_?” she said and scoffed. “No thank you. Have read it. Hated. Is Medic into too-young girls?”

“No no!” Heavy said, tucking the book under his arm. “Is not like that! Is just,” he paused, “ _Spornyy_.” He stopped to search for an English word.

Demoman laughed and pushed the sheets off the bed with her feet. “Sit,” she said.

He did as told. “Why you laugh?” he asked.

“It sound like English slang word for pictures and videos of people having sex. This ‘ _spornyy’_.”

Heavy smiled at her first attempt at a Russian word. “It mean, uh, debate. Not always good.”

“Controversy,” she said, “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” He looked to the poster. “Is Demoman liking girls?”

“I ain’t have problem with girls, why?”

“You are homosexual?”

“What? Oh! No! No.” She laughed so hard it brought a tear to her eye. “I got the poster for the car.”

“Volvo,” he read slowly. “Where is from?”

“Sweden,” she said.

“Is Demoman from Sweden? I hear you speaking German sometimes and not sure.”

“My house is in Sweden, if that is what you are asking.” She rubbed at a coffee stain on her shirt.

“Is home or just house you own?” he asked, bringing his knee up on the bed.

“Is where my mother and son live, so is closest to home I ever have now.”

“You have son?”

“Yes.”

“So are married?”

“No, I adopted.”

“Adopted?”

“Ah, hmm…” She pursed her lips for a moment, “Raise child whose parents have died.”

“Ah,” Heavy said. “So, no man?”

“Heavy,” she warned, reaching over to the shoddy table by her bed to grab her cigarettes and lighter. She offered him one, but he declined. She smoked for a minute in silence, flicking ash over the side of the bed. “This is uncomfortable subject.”

“Am sorry. Not meaning to offend.”

“I know,” she said, sighing.

“Was hurt?”

“ _Vas_?”

“By man?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and Heavy thought the quaking in her shoulders was the onset of sobs. He was very surprised when she started laughing, even snorting once.

“Everyone assume I am hurt or lesbian. Maybe am just, ah, picky?”

“So Demoman is not hurt?”

“Have been to real war with no respawn. Have been hurt. Just not like that. Not by, ah, romantic.”

“So, is open to try?”

“Are you asking me to be more than colleagues?” she asked, leaning back on her hands.

“ _Da_ ,” he said, watching for her reaction.

“When is your contract up?” she asked.

“In two year,” he said, looking a bit confused.

“I tell you this: mine is up in three years. If you go home for a year and still think of me until mine is done, then we will try. Is good?”

“Not good for now?”

“It would cause trouble. Am not interested in losing contract for, ah, frater- frateruh- relationship. Family need money more than I need a man.”

“Ah. I understand,” he said with a nod.

“My name is Kristina.”

“I am Alexei.”

“Nice to meet you, Alexei.”

…

The pizza was quickly finished off, Sniper and Demoman sharing a box between them as well as a bottle of Scrumpy.

“I’m gettin’ a bit light-headed. I’m done,” she said when he held the bottle out to her again.

“Suit ye’re self!” he said, downing what was left. “So,” he said, throwing the bottle out the window of the hideaway they had chosen. He paused to hear the satisfying shatter of glass on rock and then leaned forward, bracing himself on his elbow. “Am I attractive enough to kiss while ye’re not droonk?”

“Maybe,” she said, a titter making it past her lips.

“Joost maybe?” He pretended to look hurt, but couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her playful push at his shoulder.

“A little more than maybe,” she whispered, leaning forward to bump her nose against his.

“So yes?” he asked, lifting his hand to thread in her hair and cup the back of her head.

“Definitely,” was the ghost of a breath brushing against his lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she closed the distance between their lips. One soft, moist press after another was shared until Sniper pulled back, cheeks and nose tinted pink.

“Ye’allright?” he asked, pressing closer to her, kicking the empty box out of the way.

“Yeah,” she sighed, nuzzling into his hand as he brought it around to cup her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an unguarded look, a look unfitting of a tried mercenary, but just right for a night of passion. She closed her eyes again and dove back in, claiming his lips. His quiet moan had her parting his lips with her tongue, exploring his willing mouth.

They pulled apart for a breath and rested their foreheads together.

She pushed at his shoulder and he let himself be moved back, thinking he’d done something wrong, but was pleasantly surprised to find himself with a lap full of a curvy brunette, kissing around his mouth. He ran his hands up her sides, the action barely more than a teasing caress. He smiled against her lips when she shivered.

Vests were shed and they explored each other’s upper bodies with their hands, lips and tongues.

“We should stoop,” Demoman said when she found the zipper to his jumpsuit.

“Yeah, we should,” she agreed, pulling it down anyway.

She felt the newly exposed flesh, brushing her nose against the thick swatch of chest hair. Tavish raised his hands to the buttons on her shirt and slowly opened them. Her fingers wandered up his forearms to his wrists as he went about disrobing her. They kissed again and he wrapped his arms around her, under her shirt. She arched her back against him, tugging on his lip with her teeth. He groaned and ground against her, earning the sweetest of sounds.

“We really should stop,” he reiterated, placing one more kiss on her slightly parted lips. She whined when he pulled back and reclined a few feet away.

“Damn,” she whispered.

…

“Engineer,” Spy said, walking up to the blue-clad man.

“Yeah?” he asked, standing up from where he’d been bent over his truck. “Needs a new belt.” He jerked his thumb toward the vehicle.

“I wanted to properly thank you for today.”

“Ain’t no need to be so formal about it. Yer my ally and maybe muh friend. If shit happens, I’ll be there for ya.” He shut the hood and leaned back against it.

“I appreciate it.”

…

“Miss Pauling, call Mr. Conagher up here.”

“Um, yes ma’am.”

“Also, draw up the paperwork for his replacement. Send them the engineer that messed up the respawn system.”

“Um, how-“

“Leave that to me. Just write up the papers.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own TF2.**

**Warning: Language, violence, drug references, very mild sexual content (masturbation reference) and my ramblings.**

 

Demoman woke to soft hairs tickling his face and sticking to his lips. With a couple of airy ‘thps’s, he was free of the strands and pulled back to admire Sniper’s sleeping face. He tucked her hair back, pushing it away from her brow, smiling. He ran his finger down the length of her nose and chuckled as she wrinkled it and grunted. Eventually she came to, cracking one eye open to peer at Demoman with an annoyed expression. She closed her eyes again for a moment, but groaned and lifted her head. When she opened both eyes, she looked around, confused.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, mind and vision clearing.

Demo kissed her cheek and she turned and met his lips with her own.

“We didn’t have sex,” she stated.

“I told yeh that’s not all I’m after,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She ‘mm’ed in response, and buried her face in the fuzzy chest in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s early. We c’n still make et oon bef’r they knoo we were oot here all ni’t,” he said, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head. She laughed. “Whoot?”

“Yer accent is really thick when ya first wake oop.”

“Bah,” he said, mock indignantly. “Let’s get inside.”

He stood and put on the clothes he’d taken off the previous night and turned to watch her dazedly button her shirt. When she grunted in frustration, he assisted. They kissed once more before heading inside.

…

Demoman looked out over the landscape, the only difference between the battleground and what lay beyond being the chain-link fence that separated them. One side of her mouth quirked up as she mused over what it could be made of to withstand explosions from wayward rockets and grenades. Smoke blasted from her nostrils as she exhaled sharply and, after breath, she brought her cigarette to her lips again.

“Good morning, female Demoman,” Soldier greeted, walking up beside her.

“Just ‘Demoman’ will do,” she said.

“But, you are female. ‘Demoman’ is not,” he said, halting his approach a meter away.

“If I am labeled by what he is not, then should I not be ‘white female Demoman’?” she asked, taking another drag.

“Yes ma’am. But ‘female Demoman’ is shorter,” he said with a nod.

“’Demoman’ will suffice.”

“How about ‘Femoman’? Or ‘Demowoman’?” Soldier suggested.

“How about ‘Demoman’?” she asked before taking a long, hard pull on her cigarette.

“Why are you so resistant to your, uh, femininity?” he asked, looking her over. She was wearing simple gray trousers and a blue t-shirt. Her boots were not laced, the strings merely tucked into the shoes.

“Femininity has no use out here,” she supplied.

“It would lull the other team into a false sense of security,” he said with another nod.

“Not enough for it to be worth it,” she said, stomping out her cigarette.

“Have you had enough meat lately?”

She turned to him, an expression that bordered on a frown consuming her face.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Just making sure the fairer members of my team are in good condition!” he declared a bit too loud.

“Define ‘fair,’” she said in a warning tone.

“You and Sniper and Scout,” he said, “Scout is young, Sniper is skinny and you are a girl.”

“Scout is an adult. Sniper may be slender, but his shoulders can handle his gun and I am a woman, not a girl.” Her voice took on a gravelly quality near the end of her miniature rant.

“True. But every member of this team must be in peak condition.”

“I am in peak condition.”

“Your rude behavior says otherwise.”

“Would you like a demonstration?” she asked, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.

“That would be good! How would you suggest-“

His words were cut off by a fist in his jaw. He stumbled back, but recovered quickly.

“A sparring match! Excellent choice!” he said, returning the favor, catching her, painfully, in the cheek.

She caught herself on the nearest wall and narrowed her eyes before launching herself at him. The two quickly became a blur of flying fists and feet. A few submission maneuvers were applied, but broken by the other’s wild flailing. At one point, she even bit him. In ten minutes, the two were winded, throwing a swing only to pull back and brace themselves to try and catch their breath.

Once, when Soldier fell, she hauled him to his feet before knocking him back down. She climbed on him to assault his face, but he caught her hands in his and it became a test of strength.

“You know I don’t think less of you for being a woman,” he ground out.

“I am not doing well enough if you can still talk,” she growled, throwing her weight into the struggle.

“I think you’re doing a damn fine job,” he said, letting one of her hands slip, taking a direct hit to the face so he could elbow her off.

She fell on her side, a cloud of dust rising up. He turned on his side to look at her and smiled, a spot of blood shining on his lip in the early morning light. They stopped for a moment, sizing each other up.

“Well, that was a good morning workout!” Soldier said, pulling himself to his feet. He was a bit shaky at first, but righted himself and his hand out to Kris.

She looked shocked at first, but took it, letting him help her up.

“We should go see the doctor,” he said.

“I will be fine.”

“You will see Medic!” he announced, looking down his nose at her. “I will go with you!” He suddenly looked much friendlier.

“Fine. Let me have a cigarette first,” she said, looking a bit uneasy.

“I will partake of tobacco as well!” He searched his pockets for a cigar, finding it miraculously unharmed.

Once they reached medbay, the look of disbelief on Medic’s face eased her concerns a bit. “You were doing vhat again?” he asked, turning on his Medigun.

“Bonding!” Soldier supplied, clapping the female on the back. She grinned.

“Bonding? By beating each other up?” Medic asked, training the gun on Soldier, who seemed to have taken the most damage.

“Yes sir!” Soldier said.

When Soldier was healed, he repeated the process for Demoman.

“Vell, I guess my advice would be ‘no more bonding,’” Medic said, sounding slightly amused.

“No promises,” Demoman said.

“Thanks, Doc!” Soldier called. He and Demo left together. “Fancy some coffee?” he asked her at the door.

“Sounds great,” she said.

“ _Dummkopfs_ ,” he muttered, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but smirk.

…

“Mornin’ Soldier, Demoman,” Dell greeted as the two walked into the kitchen. “’M glad yer here. I’ve been called up to help fix the darn ‘spawn system, so I might not be here for a couple of days.” He sipped from a mug. “Was hopin’ ta catch Spah before I left but I reckon he’s not awake yet.” He sat his cup down and watched Soldier fill two cups, handing one to Demoman. He raised a brow at the odd behavior. “Can I trust you two not to fight too much while I’m gone?” His words sounded a bit strained, as if he was in disbelief of what he was seeing.

“Yes sir, I think Demoman and I will get along just fine while you are gone,” Soldier aid with a grin.

“Did I miss something?” Engineer asked, fisting his gloved hand and resting it on his hip.

“Yah. We beat the crap out of each other this morning,” Demoman filled him in, sitting at the table.

Engineer was speechless for nearly a minute.

“’N’ now you’re friends?” He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“Uh, yes,” Soldier said, taking a seat of his own, nearly across from Demoman.

“Well, I’ll be a- Wait.” Engineer stopped and turned a questioning gaze at Demoman. “He didn’t get inta Sniper’s stash, did ‘e?”

She scoffed and shook her head.

“Right, then. I guess I’ll see ya around.”

With a pat to Soldier’s shoulder, he left.

…

The previous evening had been a difficult one for the RED Medic. He’d spent his night consoling a very paranoid pyromaniac who refused to remove his mask and later fell asleep in the blonde’s bed.

Mark spent the rest of the night high on painkillers, until the medications effects became too much to ignore and he slumped over his desk and slept.

When he woke, Mark took a fist full of white pills with water from the tap at one of his work stations. He checked on Pyro before ambling into the hallway to head to the kitchen and find himself something akin to nutrition. Halfway there, his body decided it hadn’t rested enough and he braced himself on the wall as he started to doze off. A mild throbbing sensation somehow made it through the haze of the painkillers and set the doctor wobbling. He tried to hold onto the wall as a wave of nausea washed over him, but gave up, letting himself sag to the ground. He vaguely thought about trying to get back to his quarters, but decided the floor wasn’t so uncomfortable and leaned against it, drifting off again.

RED Soldier growled to himself as he reflected on what Ellis had said to him about being gone for a few days. The man had handed him back the pill bottle as if he was out of addiction’s grasp and it was just Anisin. He clutched the bottle in his fist, tempted to smash it on the wall as he made his way to medbay. His veins itched, or felt as though they did, as he stopped himself from heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water and down the contents of the small container.

He nearly dropped it when he saw their Medic slumped against the wall in the same way he occasionally found Demoman. He knelt by the blonde, panic gripping him for a moment at the blue tint on the blonde’s lips. He reached out with a shaking hand and put two fingers to the other’s neck.

“Not dead, just high,” Soldier said with a sigh, slumping down beside him. He brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them, banging the fist with the bottle in it against his own forehead a few times. He scrubbed his unoccupied hand over his face and rolled his eyes back before closing them tightly. He sighed heavily and rested his forehead on his hands. “Damnit, Doc. How am I supposed to behave when you can’t?”

…

Demoman and Sniper made their way to the kitchen, talking quietly. They’d showered and changed and were dreadfully hungry.

“I’ll make pancakes, you make coffee?” she said, flipping on the light and heading to the cabinet.

“Sounds like a good deal to me!” Demo scooped a healthy helping of grounds from a tin into a new filter and put that in a machine as Sniper mixed ingredients in a bowl. He filled the pot with water and poured it into the back of the machine, quickly replacing it on the burner. Tavish took two mugs from the cabinet and set them on the counter.

“How do ye take it?”

“Black and sweet,” she said, not thinking.

“So ye like it like ye like ye’re men, eh?” he teased, scooping sugar into one of the cups.

She laughed sarcastically and tried to pretend to be offended, but found it very hard. The pan sizzled and butter bubbles popped. Demo filled her cup when there was enough in the pot and stirred it. He sat it on the counter beside her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She brought one hand up and clutched his arm, not yet pulling it away from her.

“Tavish,” she started, “If we’re going to do this, we can’t be so open about it just yet.” She returned her hand to cooking, pouring batter in the pan when he pulled back.

“I know,” he said, moving to pour his own coffee. “It’s just a wee bit difficult to have you so close and not be able to hold you.”

“It’s been, what, two or three days since we fucked?” She scooped a pancake onto a plate, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Mm,” he said into his cup as he took a sip. “When you find a woman yeh think ye’ll have a future with, yeh don’t wanna let ‘er go.”

She smiled softly, adding another pancake to the stack.

Not ten minutes later, Scout walked into the room wearing only a pair of shorts and a threadbare tank top. He padded to the refrigerator and took out a small bottle of milk. He sipped from it and closed the door, turning to look at the other two. He licked at his milk moustache before commenting; “So I guess you had the most orgasms last night.”

Both froze and looked at him.

“What?” Sniper asked, removing yet another pancake from the pan.

“Everyone knows that the one who has the most orgasms makes the pancakes the next day!”

Sniper swung the burning hot pan, hitting Scout upside the head.

“Yeeowch! Hey! You coulda burned me!” he said, holding the extremely warm bump that was forming, pulling off his cap, dropping it as he touched a spot of cooling batter that had landed on it.

“Ya made rude comments,” she replied, pouring more batter in the pan.

“Man, I was just joking,” he groused.

She pulled another plate from the cabinet as Scout rummaged through the refrigerator for an acceptable breakfast.

“Here, shortstack,” she said, putting a plate with three pancakes on it across the table from where she sat plates for herself and Demoman.

“Yeah, pancakes!” he cheered, immediately sitting down.

Demoman slid a fork across the table and he plucked it up, waiting impatiently for syrup. When it was passed to him, he drowned his pancakes in it and tore into them.

“Oot’s like we have a kid already,” Demoman said, shaking his head.

“I’m twenfy-fwee!” Scout griped around a mouthful.

The three ate in relative silence, Scout smacking his lips notwithstanding. Scout whooped around a mouthful of banana, throwing the peel in the general direction of the garbage, heading out of the room. A booming female voice suddenly blasting throughout the base made Scout choke on the banana he was putting away.

“Congratulations, you’ve earned a break. There will be no combat for three days. Make the most of it.”

…

BLU Spy was dressed and ready to go, heading toward the door to his room. He unlocked the first lock, a hook and chain, and brought his hand to the second, a makeshift deadbolt, when he noticed something on the ground. He bent and picked it up. A folded piece of paper with a little plastic card in it. He recognized the car as a point card and turned to the paper.

_Spy,_

_I got called up to assist in the repairing of respawn. They said I wouldn’t be needing this for a while, and I felt bad for going after what I said yesterday, so I’m leaving my points to you. The code is 2597._

  1. _Conagher_



Spy tucked the note into his jacket and set the point card on his bedside stand.

“So much for being there,” he said with a slight chuckle, opening the remaining locks and heading out to face the world.

…

“A holiday! This calls for a party!” Soldier announced. “Let’s bring in a case of beer from storage. Then, go see if Medic will bring his record player to the rec room!”

Demoman nodded in response.

“Stories will be told!”

Demo nodded again.

“Fun will be had!”

Another nod.

“Maybe you will get laid!”

She started to nod, but stopped. “What?” she asked.

“I said nothing!” he roared. “Uh, let’s get that beer!”

The two hauled a case of BLU Streak to the rec room and Soldier went to talk to Medic as Demoman sat up a card table. She opened the flimsy storage cabinet and took out the poker set. Heavy, Medic and Soldier soon joined her, Heavy carrying Medic’s record player, Medic holding a box of records.

“Isn’t it a little early to drink, Soldier?” Medic asked with a chuckle, setting his records by the player.

“Nonsense! But,” he paused and gripped his chin. “We should eat first!”

“Yes, some of us haven’t even had breakfast yet,” Medic put in.

“Heavy! Let’s go start up the grill!” Soldier said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Yes, vhile us girls do the women’s work,” Medic joked, rolling his eyes. “Demoman, help me find another table,” he said, heading out the door. He turned and looked at her. “What is wrong with you?”

She stared at him for a moment longer before responding; “When I was drunk, you said something, uh, about my brother being in Buchenwald.”

“Ach, yes,” Medic said, waving his hand dismissively. “We both worked zhere. Now come help me find another table.

She stared after him for a moment longer, not quite believing those words.

…

After putting her dishes in the sink, Sniper turned to Demoman as he picked up his and Scout’s.

“I’m gonna go find Cae,” she said. “You comin’?”

He put his hands on his hips. “You’re going to go over to the enemy base while respawn is malfunctionin’? And they call me reckless!”

“I’m not just goin’ to go over there!” she said, crossing her arms.

“Should I grab a drink?” he asked.

“Probably,” she said with a smirk.

Just after noon, they found themselves on a ledge of dirt and gravel that gave the best view of the BLU base. She had her scope in hand, scanning the area. Heavy was tending a grill with occasional input from Soldier. Medic, Spy and Demoman came and went. Scout was bouncing a ball off the side of a building.

“Soo, what now?” Demoman asked, leaning down beside Sniper.

“Now I find out which room’s ‘is and maybe go get a ladder.”

“But how ye gonna-“

“They’re busy. Keep watchin’ while I find out which one is his.”

A few minutes went by before anything of note happened.

“Uh, hey,” Demo said, tapping her shoulder with two fingers and pointing with the same ones.

Sniper’s expression instantly brightened as she watched a mop of brown hair and shades emerge from a van parked just outside the fence with - her expression dropped – the enemy Sniper.

“Whot nu?”

“Now we find a way to get his attention without gettin’ everyone else’s,” she said, scuttling for cover. Demo ducked down as well.

Much to their surprise, the two who emerged from the van ducked under the loose wire fencing and headed out to the battlefield. She watched for a moment, holding her hand up so Demo wouldn’t move. They watched them wander closer, Sniper’s hands tucked in his pockets. Caelan used his hands animatedly. When they got close enough that she could hear what they were saying, she stood up slowly.

“Caelan!”

The brunette turned to his sister with wide eyes, blinking rapidly. He lunged forward to spring toward her, but Sniper caught his wrist and held him back.

“What the hell?!” Pyro demanded, baring his teeth at Sniper.

The older man pointed out behind Reagan to where Demo was still crouching.

Upon being noticed, Tavish put his hands up and stepped out from his hiding place. Reagan stepped over the ledge and slid down the dusty incline that was a little more than twice her height only to be embraced by strong arms at the bottom.

“Caelan!” the female cried, clinging to the other around the neck. She pulled back and looked him over before ensconcing him in another breathtakingly tight hug. “I though’ you were dead or a beggar or somethin’!”

“I was fer a while,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “A beggar, not dead,” he chuckled. “Though I have died out here a few times.”

“I’m so sorry for shootin’ ya in the head!” she cried.

“And I’m sorry for roastin’ ya,” he said.

Andrew looked back and forth between the reunited siblings and the cautiously-approaching Demoman. He had his hands held where the other could see them, but he still felt uneasy. Sniper took a step back when Tavish put his hands on the ground to ease his journey down the incline.

“S’alright,” he said, once more holding his hands up. “I joost came oot here in case any’a ye goot ideas.”

Sniper took another step back, but didn’t relax.

"Who is your friend?" Reagan asked, a bit of her distaste for the other Sniper leaking into her voice.

“This is Andy,” Pyro said.

“Don’t bloody give them my name!” Sniper hissed before Caelan could divulge any more information.

“It’s just yer first name!”

“Yeah, well, ya can never be too careful.”

…

Kristina tipped back a beer, downing the rest of its contents and Soldier cheered, thrusting another into her hand. She twisted the cap off and took a long pull from it. She wandered over to Heavy when Soldier did, leaning heavily on his side. She chuckled to herself as she sipped her beer, acting as though the older male was just a wall she could prop herself up against.

“Demoman is drunk?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Getting zhere!” she answered. “Ooh, hey!” she said, gripping his forearm. She pointed out to the battlefield with the hand that held her beer.

Heavy followed her gesture and saw a few figures out on the field. He whistled sharply in Soldier’s general direction and jerked his head toward the group.

“What-“ Soldier headed for the loose bit of fence out toward the others.

When Medic took a tray of meat inside, Demoman tried to wrap one arm around Heavy. He looked down at her and quirked a brow.

“Getting there?” he asked.

“All ze way,” she said, burying her face in his side.

“Hello Demoman!” Soldier called out, approaching the group.

The female Sniper stepped back.

“What are you REDs doing with our BLUs?” he asked, the question more toward Reagan.

“It’s nothin’, Jane!” Demo said, reaching out to draw the man into a one-armed hug. “Joost getting’ to knoo the competition.”

Soldier pushed his helmet back to get a better look at the two in red. “That’s a damn good idea!” Soldier nearly shouted, half returning the hug. “We must explore this further! Learn your weaknesses!”

“Ya ken, it does sound like a good idea. Maybe we shid have a fire oot here tonight,” he suggested. “Leave these two to catch up.”

“You know her?” Soldier asked Caelan.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, I do.”

“And you?” To Andy.

“Nah,” he said.

“Then you come with me! We must prepare to get to know our enemies!”

“Yea’,” he said, giving Caelan and Reagan one last weary look before turning to follow the boisterous man.

“Maybe you should come a little closer to our side so we can get out here if you scream, eh?” Demo asked, resting his hand on Reagan’s back.

“I’ll be fine!” she insisted, shooing him.

“Kiss?” he asked.

She looked over at the BLU base and ducked behind the closest barrier, pulling Caelan and Tavish with her. She gave Tavish a chaste peck on the lips and a small smile before turning her attention back to her brother, once more clinging to him.

…

“What the hell is this?” Scout asked, picking at the edge of the white thing sitting on top of the salad Spy had put in front of him.

“It ees called a poached egg. You don’t have to eat it,” he bit out, carefully spooning out another egg to place on top of a carefully crafted salad at his side.

“Yeah, well,” Scout trailed off, picking at it still. “I wanna eat the salad ‘cuz it’s got bacon in it.”

“Put ze egg aside and someone else will eat it.”

“Why ain’t there cheese in this?”

As soon as Spy had corralled another egg into cooking properly, he grabbed a bowl of shredded cheeses and practically dropped it on the table in front of the younger man.

“Dressing is in zee refrigerator,” the masked man said before turning back to the stove.

Six salads later, Heavy’s with three eggs instead of one, he washed his hands and put his gloves back on.

“The one with three eggs is for Heavy.”

“He want a fourth?”

“Ask him yourself when he comes in!”

Spy strode out into the hall, looking for anyone else to tell them lunch was ready. He decided to head to medbay first, since it was just around the corner and down a short hallway. When he turned said corner, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Their Medic was slumped against the wall, Soldier sitting next to him looking dreadfully ashamed and their Pyro sat across the hall from the two, nervously picking at his boot.

“Soldier,” Spy said simply, trying to gain the man’s attention. When both he and Pyro looked up, he continued; “What is thees?” He gestured to Mark before putting his hands in his pockets.

“I found him like this,” was the simple reply.

“And you told no one?”

“Who would I tell? He’s the doctor.”

“Good point.” He walked over to Soldier. “What have you there?” he asked, removing his hands from his pockets to kneel down.

“My meds. Engie gave ‘em back when he left this morning.”

“And what do you intend to do with them?”

“I was going to give them back to Medic, so I wouldn’t be tempted, but,” he trailed off, gesturing.

“Indeed.” Spy stood. “I will hold on to them if you like.”

He held his hand out to Soldier. The man reluctantly parted with his pills and accepted Spy’s hand to be pulled up.

“You will get over it,” he said bluntly.

“That’s easy for you to say, you-“

“Ah,” Spy cut him off, holding up a finger to silence him. “Go. Take Pyro and eat. There is food in zee kitchen.”

Soldier took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

“Yeah,” he paused and turned to Pyro. “C’mon, Sparky. Lunch is waitin’.”

Pyro stood and walked around the corner, looking back once before disappearing.

Soldier took another deep breath and ran his fingers through his buzz. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Do not worry about it.”

Spy watched the corner long after Soldier vanished around it and counted out a minute before pocketing the pills and crouching once more. He grabbed the blonde by the shoulders and shook him. The other opened his eyes halfway before they closed again and his consciousness fled. Spy huffed and knelt down, positioning the doctor to lift him onto his shoulders. He carried him into medbay, toeing the door open. He sat the man at his desk and filed away his paperwork, clearing off the desk. He walked out of the room and back to the kitchen.

“Yo! Tons-of-Fun took my egg!” Scout informed him.

“Wonderful,” Spy said dryly, gathering up two salads, two forks and two glasses of water.

Back in the medical ward, Spy sat the salads and water on the table as though they were eating together, but after a moment of though, he pulled the one in front of the other aside. He picked up the glass before the other and took a sip of it.

He then threw the water in the other’s face.

Mark sat up, straight as a rod, looking absolutely terrified. His irises barely visible from how dilated his eyes were.

Spy made a show of setting the cup on the table, loud and hard. “Drink,” Spy said, picking up his own glass only to put it in front of Medic.

Mark said nothing, merely picking up the glass with shaking hands, bringing it to his lips. He took a few sips as quietly as possible and sat it back down.

“This has to stop,” Spy said, picking up his fork.

Mark swallowed hard, but turned his gaze toward the table. Spy cut off a piece of the egg white and stabbed it, catching a few leaves. He brought it to his mouth and chewed quietly. Once he swallowed, he spoke again; “Look at me.”

The blonde was hesitant, but did as told.

“How can zee others expect you take care of them when you can’t even take care of yourself?”

Mark lowered his gaze again, hanging his head in shame.

“Look at me,” Spy said, his words softer this time. The blonde looked at Spy from under his lashes. “I know addictions are hard to kick,” he said, setting his fork down. He ran his finger under his nose and sniffed, hoping Mark would understand the gesture.

“I know,” he repeated, dropping his hand to the table, letting it curl loosely.

“But you have a job to do here.” He returned to his salad, eating as he thought of what to say next. “Eat,” he ordered, pushing the other dish toward Medic.

Mark picked up a fork and took a cautious bite. He managed to eat a third of the salad before he had to put the fork down, his stomach revolting.

“I don’t know what happened to you, and I don’t really want to. But,” he trailed off, taking another bit to allow himself time to think. “I can see it has been hard on you and if you need an ear, I am,” he gestured toward the ceiling, waving his hand a bit, “around.”

The two ate in silence for a few minutes, Mark finally able to stomach a few more bites.

“It would be wrong of me to be too hard on you,” Spy started up again, “But Soldier needs you right now.”

Mark sighed into his food, still looking ashamed.

“I will hold onto his medication until Engineer gets back, but when he does, the three of us need to have a talk.”

With that, Spy picked up his empty plate and glass.

“Thank you for the lovely lunch,” Spy said teasingly. He reached out and ruffled the older man’s hair. “You could use a shower. Demoman intends to have a bonfire with the other team tonight, so try to look presentable.”

…

After BLU was served grilled meats and buns, thrown haphazardly on the table, were consumed, Demoman pulled Heavy away from the small crowd to show him some magazines that he didn’t understand a word of. But he bore it, her enthusiasm palpable and bringing a smile to his face. She prattled on about engine specs, various measurements of both size and volume, pointing out pieces and parts on pictures. She even pulled out the Mann Co. catalogue at one point, trying to explain to him a new part for vehicles, coming straight from Australia. She slurred a bit and her accent was thick as she spoke quickly, animatedly. Though it made no sense, he was enjoying her company without the usual barriers between them.

During lulls in their conversation, rather, her ranting, she’d sip from another bottle. Heavy had lost count of how many she’d had. She giggled as the latest nearly empty one slipped from her hand, rolled off the mattress and clattered on the floor, rolling away. He was surprised to hear the normally stoic woman laugh in a feminine manner, but decided he liked the sound of it.

“A-lex-ay!” she said, looking at him with a goofy smile. “You are not payink attention!” She reached out to her bedside stand to grab another beer, opening it with her bare hands.

“You are drunk,” he said with a slight chuckle.

She smirked around the rim of the bottle as she tipped it up. “ _Drucken_!” she cheered and licked her lips. “ _Berusaaad_. _Brewski_. _Brewski_. _Besoffen_! Pissed! Since ve are stating ze obvious,” she said, pointing at him with her beer, “You are tall.” A pause for a sip. “And strong.” She stopped again, a grin splitting her face. “Kind of hanzom too,” she attempted to whisper.

“You are very drunk!” he said with a laugh.

“I am take a page from your book and say ‘kiss me’.”

Heavy pulled back when she leaned forward, trying to catch his lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Demoman said ‘no’ last night, remember?” He sat up and moved to the edge of her bed. She followed him, reaching out for him.

“Of course I said ‘no.’ I’ll always say ‘no.’”

Heavy was so puzzled by this that he let her take hold of him. He raised a brow. “What meaning?” he asked, wrapping his hands around her biceps.

She hummed and tried to lean forward again, but he held her back.

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“I am not allowed to have,” she said, burying her face in his massive shoulder.

“More,” he said, hoping she’d understand the cue to explain further.

“To have man. Sex. Get married,” she explained. “Am,” she paused. Not finding an English word, she substituted; “ _Ofruktbar_.”

“Are, uh, need English,” he said, turning toward her to let her snuggle into his chest.

“Not having babies.”

“Ah. Infertile,” he clarified.

She grunted into his chest and giggled again.

“Mmnh, and sex is for making baby. I gave zat up,” she paused, trying to do math in her head, “a long time ago.”

“If you think that, you are missing lot,” Heavy said, laughing and playing with her ponytail.

“Show me? Will vorry ‘bout conse- uh, con- um. Vill worry ‘bout problem later.”

“Demoman said ‘no’ while not drunk. Will wait until Demoman says ‘yes’ while not drunk.”

“I vill not say it sober,” she muttered, trying to crawl into his lap.

“Why not?”

She sat on his knee and leaned back, pulling up her shirt to show him the surgical scar on her lower stomach that dipped down into her trousers. Heavy ran one thumb over the thin, cross-shaped part that he could see.

“Ain’t wa’ta go to hell,” she said. Heavy scoffed and smirked.

“We kill every day. Already going to hell if real,” he said, pulling her shirt down. He rested his hands on her hips. “Any good god would not deny his people pleasure,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

She shivered in his grip.

…

Caelan walked back to base, lip ring in hand and a smile on his face. He scarfed down a hot dog and a handful of chips before heading to his room to hide away the ring. He grabbed a beer out of one of the crates in the rec room, waving to Soldier, Medic and Spy, who were playing poker, on his way out. He headed to Sniper’s van and slammed his hands on the door before wrenching it open. Sniper looked over at him from the mattress.

“’Ey,” he greeted.

“You’re high as fuck!” Caelan announced, climbing in and closing the door behind him.

“When am I not?” Sniper asked, a grin stretching across his lips. Caelan leaned over and kissed them. “Yer sister turn out to be everything you thought she’d be?” Sniper asked, resting his head back on his arm.

“Not exac’ly, but I’m still glad I get to see ‘er,” he said, settling in next to Andy.

“’Eah? How’d ya imagine she’d turn out?” he asked, making room for the shorter male.

“Dunno, jus’,” he trailed off. “Kinda thought she’d’a been married by now and had a kid or two. I din’t think she’d be a sniper or even a police officer.”

“So that’s what she does back home? That upset you?”

“No, no! I’m glad she’s makin’ a living on her own and alive and well. Just, ya know,” he trailed off again.

“Naw, I don’t, mate. Tell me.”

“Most Catholic girls grow up to marry Catholic men and have happy lil’ families. I’m kinda happy she turned out this way. She’s a freak like me, but without all the beggin’ and shit.”

“Ya ain’t a freak. Just eccentric,” Sniper said.

The two burst out laughing after that.

…

Both Demomen sobered up again by dinner time, only to engage in a friendly drinking contest to break the ice between the teams as the bonfire got underway. Soon the two were arm wrestling, drinks in their other hands. The teams socialized, making bets on who would win. The Devlin siblings sat together, watching the goings-on and chatting. Andrew joined them, sitting off to the side a bit, commenting when he felt the need. The Scouts chased each other around, hurling baseball team-based insults at one another, briefly bringing the BLU Soldier into their games. When Jane tired of the younger team members, he joined the Demomen, playing referee to their match, which had gone beyond arm wrestling to a full-blown grappling match. BLU Spy was, not oddly, truant. RED Spy leaned against a wall with the RED Soldier, watching the Devlins chat. BLU Medic sat, listening to the RED Heavy describe the way their Medic acted on the battlefield, vaguely complaining that he’d like to be ubercharged more often. BLU Heavy read by firelight as RED Pyro poked the aforementioned fire with a long stick.

Stories were shared, friends were made, and with full bellies and refreshed spirits, the teams headed back to their respective bases.

…

After washing up and slipping into bed, the brunette Scout couldn’t sleep. Many thoughts kept him from dozing off. He thought of his blonde counterpart and the stories he told of going to Yankees Stadium with his mother and sister. Then, there was the elusive BLU Spy who hadn’t shown his masked face and the man who might have tried to molest him seemed almost normal when talking to his sister and that other Sniper. He settled on thoughts of Reagan and felt a minor flare of jealousy at his own Demoman. He would have at least liked to have the chance to have flirted with her a bit more; she hadn’t even seen him shirtless yet! But, he had to admit, they looked good together. His dark skin was a fine contrast to her pale color, and her frame suited Demoman’s better than it would his own. She was curvy, but not so much that physical activity was difficult. She had lean, muscular arms and the first hint of age lines creeping up on her eyes next to her nose.

He decided the thoughts of how perfectly the two fit together would be a great way to fall asleep as he put his hand under the blanket, moving it toward his shorts.

He teased his pubic hair with his fingertips, sliding his hand down to cup his hardening shaft, rubbing to coax it to full attention. He gasped and bit his lip as images of Reagan timidly playing with Tavish’s length filled his mind. He licked his fingers and brought them back down, running them over the head of his cock while thinking about a pale red tongue darting out to taste dark flesh, imagined pale lips spreading over a hard, throbbing organ.

Scout shifted a bit, jerking his hips into his hand as he wondered what she would look like on her back, Demo’s broad hands spreading her thighs as he pierced her with his cock, her tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts. He bit back a moan as he thought of her moaning pathetically in nearly indescribable pleasure.

He then imagined himself in her, thumbing her clit as he threw his weight into his thrusts. His fantasy took on a mind of his own when he imagined Demo’s hands on his shoulders, rubbing him down, clothed hips rocking him deeper into her, setting up a rhythm that the older man knew she liked better. Breathless whimpers passed his lips as he bucked hard into his hand, snapping his hips to the imaginary Demoman’s pushing.

He grabbed a tissue from a convenient box on his bedside stand and rested it on his stomach, letting that hand wander down past his drawn-up testicles, teasing the skin beyond and just barely brushing his puckered hole. He imagined Tavish’s finger teasing him and the mental image of Reagan seizing up and clamping down on him, forced into orgasm by his erratic movements, startled by the explorative finger was just what he needed to send him over the edge.

He scrambled for the tissue and covered his tip as he came, digging his heels into the mattress, arching his back and hissing lowly. He sagged back and took a moment to catch his breath before dabbing up anything he might have missed then tossed the tissue in the general direction of the wastebasket. He pulled the sheet back up to his chest and settled in for a good night’s rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOLT: My house is filthy right now. I've been sick or drunk this whole past week (and I only got drunk once, so I've been mostly sick). There's diet Coke cans and ramen cups everywhere. I'm so lost without my wife! He went out of town to visit his family and I'm a lazy fuck, so... Ja ne!
> 
> P.S. EC and I are going to do TF2 themed drinking! We had Engineer (whiskey!) last time, and next time we're having Heavy (vodkaaaa!). I usually drink Demo (hard cider) or Spy (wine) because I'm normally a pussy who doesn't like the harder stuff. Don't worry, we drink responsibly. No driving, no texting (except our wife/boyfriend), no Facebooking, and no story writing. I'm about to turn twenty-three, so, party?
> 
> We did spend twenty minutes in the alcohol isle picking out which drink would be each merc, while this stockman watched us probably thinking "look at these bitches". Actually, he was probably thinking "is that blonde male or female and why is that babe with it?" Because EC is hot and I'm blonde now. I really need to change my profile pic on here.
> 
> Alright, now that my note is almost as long as the chapter, I'm going to turn you over to EC.
> 
> BB: Wow, uh… I guess I’ve just been busy with school, all that homework and Japanese I have to learn. I also have to do housework since only one of the three I live with does anything, and it’s not my not-waifu, so I get to yell at him for it.
> 
> Alcohol? I usually have Chocolate Liquer (a Demo-Spy mix?) and it gets the job done. I recently had Scout (Boston Lager) and he was delicious. … These jokes are terrible. I’ll also add that we’re trying to do a Tumblr page for this fic. So we’ll keep our 3 readers updated on that, or something.


	9. Chapter 9

Kristina woke up to a dreadful hangover, groaning as she pulled her head up from someone’s lap, groaning at the light and letting it fall back down. A moment later she realized her head was not on her pillow, or the floor she occasionally woke up on and scrambled away from the other body, cursing. She hit the carpeted floor with a “thump” and groaned miserably.

The legs she landed by moved and she ignored the pain in her head to sit up and figure out whose lap she’d been laying in. Heavy smiled down at her and leaned forward, holding out his hand. She ignored it, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she rose to her feet. She held her head and groaned again.

“Demoman has hangover,” he said with a chuckle, standing himself.

“ _No shit_ ,” she mumbled in a language he couldn’t decipher, but he got the idea and chuckled quietly.

“Come, will help,” he said, gesturing for her to follow. She did. Thankfully, he left the kitchen light off. She sat at the table and held her head in her hands.

“Did I say anything,” she stopped talking to rub at her temples for a moment, “stupid last night?”

After flipping the switch on the coffee machine, he smirked deviously and said; “Stupid is relative.”

“That means ‘yes’,” she groaned, letting her head slip through her hands to rest on the table. She covered the back of her head with her arms.

Heavy opened the refrigerator and took out an item. The glass jar clunked on the table.

“Drink,” Heavy said.

Her expression said it all as she stared at the green-tinted fluid. “You are joking?” she asked.

“Drink,” he said again, still grinning deviously.

She picked up the jar of pickles and pried the top off, making a face that hurt to make in her current state. Heavy gave her a pointed look and she downed a few gulps of the juice. When she pushed the jar away, he stuck fingers in and pulled out a pickle.

“Eat,” he said.

“This is a bit easier,” she said, taking the pickle.

He poured them coffee, adding sugar to her as she ate the wrinkled vegetable.

“Will you have me eat lemon and coffee grounds too?” she asked, attempting a smile. Heavy laughed and shook his head, sitting her mug before her. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “Please ignore anything I said last night.”

“How is phrase go? Easier said than done.”

“Shit,” she muttered into the rim of her mug.

…

“Oddly enough, I feel fine this morning,” the RED Soldier said, pouring himself and Spy some coffee.

“Good for you,” Spy said, sounding rather irritated.

“You hardly drank anything. I think you’re getting soft on me,” Ken teased, handing the other a cup.

“Not on your life,” Spy said before taking a sip. He grimaced at the taste. “Thank you,” he said, raising the mug.

“How much did you drink, anyway?” Soldier asked.

“More than I should have,” Spy admitted.

“Light-weight,” Soldier quipped.

“Simpleton,” Spy teased back. Soldier patted his back.

“There’s my Spy.”

Spy rolled his eyes at the retort, quickly pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

RED ate the breakfast Soldier made, French toast, and most of the mercs ended up visiting Medic for some pain pills. The blonde looked a mess when Ace walked in carrying two plates of their own French toast, covered in whipped cream, syrup and preserved fruit.

“Thank you,” Mark said, trying to smile for Pyro, who held up one finger. The masked man left the room and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of milk. Mark genuinely smiled this time.

Ace closed the door and took his mask off, dropping it by the door.

“Ace?” Mark asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“We’ve had a bad past couple of days, haven’t we?” he asked, sitting down.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, picking up his food.

“My ‘hallucinations’ have been worse than usual and you haven’t exactly been trying to hide your,” he paused, the healthy side of his mouth twitching, “bad habits.”

Mark sighed; “We should talk, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes. But let’s eat first,” he said, digging into his breakfast.

Once they were finished, Ace reached out and wiped a spot of whipped cream from the corner of Mark’s mouth, bringing his finger back to his own mouth to suck it clean. Mark blinked rapidly.

“I found your journal,” Ace said.

“Ah,” the blonde Medic’s brain seemed to cease functioning.

“Yes, I can read German,” Ace said, examining his gloves. “I didn’t read much. I only read where I saw my name.”

Mark paled. He pressed his hands flat against his desk and moved his chair back, ready to flee. Ace looked up at the blonde.

“You should have said something. I trust you enough to try to pursue a relationship.”

“Oh no. No no no no,” Mark said, shaking his head and holding up his hands.

“Why not?”

“We’re both men,” Medic said.

“And?”

“It’s sinful and- and unnatural. It’s an illness and I won’t drag you to hell with me.”

“No, influenza is an illness. Cancer is an illness. Homosexuality is a trait,” Ace said, pulling off his gloves. “And I’d think you, of all people, would know that an attraction to the same sex is something that just happens.” Ace sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, scratching his fingers over his short, auburn buzz cut. “And how can you tell me that heaven and hell are real, implying that angels are real, and tell me that balloonicorns aren’t? Angels, balloonicorns, same difference.”

“Maybe,” Mark said quietly, “maybe balloonicorns are your angels.”

“I’m sick in the head. You are not. If you are willing to put up with my illness, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy,” Ace said, uncrossing his legs, sitting up straight.

“Ah, Ace,” Mark sounded devastated. “Even if it weren’t a problem that we’re both men, there are still so many other issues between us.”

“Like what?” the russet-haired man asked, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his cheeks in his palms.

“Well, I’m your doctor, for one thing.”

“The only one I’ve trusted in the past decade.”

“I-I’m also much older than you?”

“I’m thirty-five. How old are you?”

“I am fifty-four,” the deadly serious response. “Nineteen years older than you.”

“Eh. I’ve probably only got a couple decades left anyway. You’ll probably outlive me.”

“This just won’t work,” Mark said with a heavy sigh.

“You had a lover before?” Ace asked, kicking his feet.

“I did,” was the cautious reply.

“Tell me about him?”

“This is a dangerous topic,” Mark said, adjusting his glasses.

“Please. Tell me about Johan, your raven-haired love.”

“How much did you read?” Mark asked, arching a brow.

“Enough. You said you felt like you were cheating on him with me.”

“Please don’t read my journal anymore.” Mark tried his hand at a stern look.

“Why won’t you say the things you say in there to me?” Ace pouted, the scar tissue by his lips wrinkling more.

“That is,” he stopped to consider his wording, “My inner struggle. I only keep a record of it to monitor my progress.”

“Seems to me like you’re going the wrong way.”

“So, how do you know German?” Mark changed the subject.

“My dad was adamant that I learn it and Japanese and Morse code. He was in the war.”

“I was in the war, too. Ace, I’m old enough to be your father.”

“My father is in his sixties.”

“I’m close enough. It would just be better for the both of us if we dropped this, please.”

Ace relented for the moment, sighing.

…

The freckled Scout knocked on the back door to Sniper’s van. He heard a grunt from inside and knocked again. When the door was opened he was greeted with an intense smell.

“Woah, geez,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Whot’cha need, Shortstop?” Sniper asked.

“Uh, I was kinda wonderin’ if you’d take me ta town to get some tacos. I’ll get you some!” he offered.

“Hey, wanna go inta town?” Andy asked over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Caelan said, sitting up on the old mattress. “I jus’ gotta get decent shoes.”

“Fuck shoes, mate. We’ll go ta one’a them places with the roller-skating girls.”

The blonde smiled at their banter.

“Go get up in the cab, Freckles,” Sniper said, pointing with his thumb. “I ac’ually need shoes ta drive.”

Scout jumped into the passenger seat as Andy fumbled with his boots. A minute later, they were on the road.

“So, why tacos?” Caelan asked, sprawling back out on Sniper’s bed.

“I dunno. Don’t you like tacos?” Scout asked, fidgeting with his seatbelt.

“I’m more of a hot dog guy myself,” Pyro joked. Sniper scoffed.

“We had hot dogs yesterday,” Scout said, missing the joke.

“I could eat ‘em every day,” Caelan mentioned casually.

“I bet you could,” Sniper shot back.

“I like hot dogs, I just like to save ‘em for special occasions. There ain’t nothin’ like a big, juicy wiener at the ballpark.”

Andrew made a choked sound, his face heating, looking nearly horrified as Caelan grinned like he’d won the lottery.

Two minutes out from town, a siren and flashing light had them pulling over. Sniper rolled down his window for the officer who coughed and sputtered a curse before looking at the shaded man.

“License and registration, please,” the officer said, taking note of the details of the van’s interior.

Sniper motioned toward the glove box. “Scoot, can yeh get the papers out of there for me?”

The officer watched closely as Scout took out the registration form and handed it to Sniper, who in turn, handed it and his license to the officer.

“Andrew Mundy,” he read.

Scout laughed as the documents were surveyed and handed back. He turned to Caelan and said; “Hey, watch this.”

“Officer! He lured me in his van with promises of,” the blonde paused to chuckle, “promises of candy and soda!”

Caelan burst out in an explosive guffaw.

“Man, shut up!” Andy hissed.

“Uh, sir, I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”

“Croikey,” Sniper muttered, throwing the door open. The second he realized he’d knocked over the officer, he pulled the door shut and peeled out. “You’re going to get me in trouble!” Andy griped, putting the pedal to the metal.

“But it was fucking hilarious!” Caelan said in the younger man’s defense.

“I don’t think it’s funny to be accused of being a child molester,” Andy said between grit teeth.

“Woah, dude. Ain’t nobody calling you a child molester! Jus’ chill!”

Andy checked the rear view mirror for anyone behind him on the road as he pulled off onto a dirt path, then glared at the still-laughing man in the back.

“Don’t do shit like that,” Sniper growled.

“I’m… sorry.”

“Caelan, hand me one of those jars back there.”

“Don’t tell ‘im my name!” the brunette hissed.

“Oops,” Sniper said non-commitally. “Seriously, I gotta piss.”

“Yer gonna piss while drivin’?!” Scout sounded shocked.

“Uh, yea’? That’s how I got started with the whole thing.”

With his business finished and the jar being set somewhere in the back by the other brunette, Sniper checked the rear-view again.

“Eww, it’s warm!” Caelan said.

“Yeah, it just came out of me.”

Scout fell into an awkward silence and turned his attention out the window. After a minute, they pulled off the road and parked by some trees.

“Well, we’re gonna wait this out a bit. Wanna share a bowl, firebug?” Sniper asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Don’t call me that.” He crawled back up on the bed, “And yes.”

“Can I try it?” Scout asked.

“Uhh, ya mean you’ve never?” Sniper asked, looking up from packing his pipe.

“No. I tried a cigarette once, but that was awful.”

“Good on ye. Sure,” Andy said. “You can try it.”

Twenty minutes later, Scout was sprawled out on Sniper’s bed, chuckling at everything.

“Kid, yer actin’ stupid,” Caelan said, his lips parting in a predatory smile. Scout scoffed and started laughing again.

“Easy, it’s his first time,” Andy said before taking another hit.

“You act like we’re takin’ his virginity,” Pyro quipped.

Sniper coughed and nearly gagged on a puff of thick, white smoke.

“I am not a virgin,” Scout muttered nearly a minute later, a lazy smirk on his face.

“Right,” Caelan said sarcastically.

“No, really. I was sixteen,” he started, the rest in his head.

The three enjoyed the haze for a few moments in silence before Scout broke it; “Can I ask you a question, Snipes?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Ya promise ya won’t be offended?”

“Can’t promise that. Shut up and ask.”

“I can’t ask if I shut up,” Scout said, nudging the older man with his foot. Andy grunted, wondering how he wound up on the edge of the bed and Cae on the floor. “But uh, Sniper. Are you a faggot?”

Both older males tensed.

“Don’t say things like that,” Sniper said.

“No, like, seriously. I thought,” he stopped to snicker, “I thought you and Demoman were fucking at first, and then-“

The two insomnia club members laughter drowned out the continuation of Scout’s speech, so he stopped.

“Really?” Sniper asked.

“Yeah?”

“Naw, loike, why would you think I was fuckin’ ‘er?”

“Because she’s always with you in yer van,” Scout said, turning on his side.

“’Eah, getting’ high,” Sniper clarified, taking out a cigarette.

“So, like, not fucking?”

“Not fucking. She won’t even talk about sex. Clams up.”

Scout laughed and snorted and muttered “you said clam!”

“Whoi is that funny?” the sharpshooter asked.

“Because it’s slang for va-gi-na,” Caelan said, closing his eyes. He took off his sunglasses and folded them in his lap.

Scout and Sniper both snickered and Pyro quirked his lips up.

“Ya gonna answer my question?” Scout asked, once more nudging the older man.

“No,” he said, finally lighting his cigarette.

“It’s cool if ya’re. My mom’s best friend is a faggot.”

“You say that word one more time and I’ll Jarate your ass,” Andy threatened.

“Faggot,” Scout teased.

Sniper reached for a jar, but when he realized it was too far away, he gave up.

“Man, I’m hungry,” Caelan griped.

“Yeah. When’re we gonna get those tacos?”

“In a minute,” Sniper said.

…

Later that day, Alexei found Kristina sleeping again, in her bed, with the door wide open. He stood in the doorway, trying to decide if he should wake her or not. After a few minutes of weighing his options, she decided for him, cracking an eye open to glare at him.

“Need something?” she asked.

“Was wondering if Demoman would like to take walk with me,” he said, uncrossing his arms.

She sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. “Okay,” she said, sitting up. She reached out to the bedside stand to grab an already open beer, but Heavy strode over and snatched it away.

“Stay sober for a bit,” he said, smirking.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and stood. She kicked magazines and beer bottles out of the way, looking for something. She grumbled to herself.

“What are you trying to find?” Heavy asked.

“Shoes. Do not want to lace up boots,” she said, pushing a dirty shirt out of the way with her foot. “Ah.” She found a pair of shoes that looked vaguely like loafers and slipped her feet into them. “Where are we going?” she asked, pulling out her hair tie and retying it after running her fingers through it.

“Just around,” Heavy said. “Outside. Away from ears.”

“Okay,” she said, quirking a brow.

“Are tired?” he asked.

“Always tired. Let’s go,” she said, heading out the door.

They made small talk until they were about half a mile from the base.

“So, what is this about?” she asked, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I say something stupid when I was drunk?”

“Would not say stupid,” he said, hooking his hands behind his back.

“What?”

“Have been thinking, ah…” He licked his lips, “How to ask.”

“Just say it.”

“Is Demoman a virgin?”

“Done!” she said, throwing her hands up. She turned to head back toward the base.

“Wait,” Heavy said, wrapping one arm around her waist from behind, turning her, gripping her other shoulder so she couldn’t escape. “Is not bad thing,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “Demoman said ‘not deserving’ because infertile. Want to know why you think that.”

She muttered many curse words, pushing him back with one hand, rubbing her forehead with the other. “This is not-“ She stopped abruptly, looking up at him and frowning. “Why do you want to know?”

“Already said-“

“Is only because I am the only female here.”

“ _Nyet_ ,” Heavy said, stepping back. He frowned deeply.

She sighed and lit another cigarette. “You do not want this trouble.”

“You know what I want?” Heavy asked, sounding rather amused. “Is not so bad, to have relationship.”

“I cannot lose contract.”

“You would not,” he said.

She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I think you know this. Do you not?” she said nothing, simply looking away, puffing on her cigarette.

“No fraternization clause. You claim because you do not want distraction? I can compose myself on field. Will not put you in any danger.”

“That’s not it,” she said, her lips twitching into a bitter grimace.

“Oh, that,” Heavy said. He let a chuckle by his lips as he stood to his full height and wiped his knuckles across his forehead. “If hell is real, we are both already goink there. Why would you deny yourself joy and pleasure for, ah, salvation,” he sounded the word out slowly, “that may never come?”

Demoman just stared at him, looking conflicted – her eyebrows raised, lips parted.

“Is not so bad,” Heavy said again. “Could be fun.”

Kristina laughed dryly and brought her smoke to her lips again. “I keep telling myself that it is the last thing that will finally secure my damnation,” she said, looking up at him. “If I give this up, I will suffer forever. I will never get to see how my family does without me, will never if my brother went to heaven or hell.” She sighed and laughed again.

“Already broke ‘thou shall not kill,’” Heavy said, adding a reassuring smile.

“Yah. Yah. I am lost anyway,” she said, taking another drag.

“Can be lost together,” Alexei suggested. “Fight demons away.” He squared up and made a few playful jabs. She laughed again.

“We could,” she said, swatting at one of his hands.

“Is better to rule in hell, anyway.” He smirked.

“I would rather go to heaven. I do not like hot weather.”

“Is good point,” Heavy said. “Would like to go to town? Is book store I would like to see.”

“Okay.”

…

“Well, damn, Spook,” the RED Soldier said, leaning on the weight rack beside Spy. “I was not expecting you to be that fit.”

Spy smirked and stood racking the dumbbell he’d been using.

“No?” he asked, hooking his hands behind his back to stretch.

“Naw. I didn’t expect you to have casual clothes, either.” Soldier motioned to the sweatpants and t-shirt the other was wearing.

“You can’t very well expect me to get one of my suits sweaty,” he said with a sly smile.

“The suits you wear on the battlefield? No, not at all,” was the sarcastic reply. “Hey, do you wear the same one of those every day?” Soldier asked, gesturing to Spy’s mask.

“Oh no. I have several.”

“Yeah? How many?” the military man asked, helping Spy load the bar over the bench.

“At last count, twelve,” he supplied, clamping the weights in place.

“Damn. Two-hundred pounds?” Soldier sounded slightly unsure as he watched Spy lay back on the bench.

“If you are concerned, you could spot me,” he suggested with a smirk.

Four sets of ten later, they were putting the weights back in their proper places.

“Everyone’s off doing their own thing and I’m bored as fuck,” Soldier griped.

“I was thinking of going into town, if you’d like to come,” Spy offered.

“You sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I would not have asked. I need to shower and change first, however.”

“Yeah, alright. I’d like to go,” Ken said.

“Very well, meet me in the kitchen in, say, half an hour?”

“You’re on!”

When Spy walked in to the kitchen, Soldier’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“What?” Spy asked.

“I’m just surprised. I haven’t seen much of your, er, wardrobe.”

“Shame. I have lots of nice clothes.”

“You look like you’re going golfing at a high-end club.”

Spy frowned. “Should I change my slacks?”

“Naw, I’m just going to look a little weird, like this.” He referenced his t-shirt and jeans.

“You will blend just fine. But I intend to be noticed,” Spy said with a smirk.

“And yer wearin’ your maks?”

“But of course!”

Soldier raised both eyebrows.

“Come,” Spy said, holding up a set of keys.

“You have a car? Why haven’t I seen it?”

“Because you are not attentive,” Spy quipped, lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Soldier, who gladly took it.

Soldier whistled at the car when he saw it and Spy couldn’t keep himself from smirking. He opened the driver side door and motioned for Soldier to get in the other side.

“Isn’t having a blue car kind of sacrilegious?” Soldier asked.

Spy only grinned.

…

“There’s nothing to really do around here,” Reagan said, reclining into Demoman on his bed, sipping on a bottle of Scrumpy.

“We could make love,” he playfully suggested. She gave him a playful glare and pouted when he took the bottle for a gulp of his own. “But I know what ye mean. Ye find ye’reself wantin’ a day off, but when it comes it’s like foooook,” he drawled.

She giggled and took the bottle back.

“So, how ye feelin’?”

“Pretty good, actually. This whole thing has been better than I expected.”

“Whaddyu mean?”

“I expected I’d be surrounded by a bunch of old perverts. I can’t exactly say everyone’s been wonderful and I didn’t expect Scout to last a day, but, it’s comfortable here. When we’re not in battle.” She trailed off, smiling to myself. “And finding my brother, who I haven’t seen for fifteen goddamn years was the best fuckin’ bonus ever!” Her outburst startled Tavish and he braced himself on the bed. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Noot a problem. So, ye’ve been handling this well.”

“Yeah. ‘E’s alive! I mean, shit! I thought he’d be dead or, like in an asylum or something.”

“Err, is that so?” Demo asked, taking the bottle again.

“Well, yeah. He’s a little odd and you know how people react t’ those who are different.”

“Ooh, I do very well. You try bein’ where ah’m from and bein’ black,” he said with a chuckle. “I can see the sim’larities between you two.”

“Well, we are twins.”

“A’right, smartass,” he said, handing the bottle back. She stuck her tongue out.

“I’m just glad he’s managed to make it through with only a few burn scars. I should have expected those.”

“Well, he is a Pyro.”

Sniper glared at him for that and held the bottle out of his reach when he tried to take it. Tavish grabbed her wrist and jerked it, causing her to spill some of the cider on herself.

“Oh, now look what ye’ve gone and done! We’re goin’ta have ta get you out of those wet clothes or ye’ll catch cold!”

She hopped up and took another sip before pouring the rest on Demoman. “Oh, look! You too. I’m so clumsy!” She sat the bottle down and started unbuttoning her shirt. Tavish grinned and pulled his own shirt off, tossing it aside.

“Ooh, that’s a real nice number ye’re wearin’,” he said, eyes roaming her lacy brazier.

“Well, I packed it. I don’t know why, but I guess it has a use now.” She smirked, pulling out her hair tie and twirling a lock around her finger. Demoman moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her between his legs.

“I’ll say it does,” he breathed, pulling it down so it exposed her breasts but still held them up. He licked his lips before leaning forward, laving his tongue over one stiffening nub. She clawed at his lats with one hand, the other curled around the back of his neck. He ravished one nipple, encouraged by a chorus of quiet, whiny moans. When he pulled back, she indiscreetly turned the other breast toward his face. He gave the pebbled peak a playful nip before pushing her back to stand up.

As soon as he was up, her hands were at his jumpsuit that had been pooled around his waist, pushing it down. She dropped to her knees and nuzzled his length that was bulging against his boxers. She hooked her fingers over the band and pulled them down. His length sprang up and bounced against her cheek.

He moaned when she took his length in her mouth, sliding her lips down the length. He bit his lip as she lapped the underside, tilting his head back as her lips slipped down again.

“Ooh, baby girl,” he moaned, threading his fingers in her hair. “If you doon’t stop that, this’ll all be over way too soon.

She reluctantly pulled back, tonguing the slit before kissing down the side and trailing kisses down his thighs to his knee.

“Ooh, c’mon oop,” he suggested.

She stood and pushed him back, unbuttoning her fly. She kicked her pants off and smiled coquettishly, hooking her thumbs in her underwear. Tavish smiled back, teasing his still-moist length with his fingertips.

“Oh, ye’re so naughty,” he said as she turned around, slowly peeling down the black material.

She stepped out fo them and straddled him, bracing herself by planting her hands on either side of his head. She gasped when he teased her folds with a finger, rubbing the head of his cock against the slit. He brought his other hand to her hip and tried to guide her down, but she held firm. He cried out in surprise when she nipped his left nipple. He brought his other hand to her face and she sucked her thumb into his mouth when she pulled back. She moaned around the digit when she impaled herself on his length.

“Ah, fook,” he moaned, letting his head fall back, hanging off the edge. His eye shot open when she swiveled her hips and clamped down on him. He found her grinning down at him. She took his lips in a rough kiss. He grunted when she pulled back, but watched with interest when she leaned back, bracing herself on his knees. He had a perfect view of where they were joined and could watch, as she lifted and dropped her hips, his cock spearing her, glistening with her fluids. His gaze traveled up, watching her breasts bounce as her movements became more erratic, watching her face contort, her lips part as she cried out her pleasure. When she opened her eyes, he tried to shift his hips down, not wanting it to end so soon. But she ground down and whined, and he thrust up hard, nearly toppling her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she breathed, gripping his pecs.

“Fook, lass, I’m gonna-“

“Just a bit longer, please!” she gasped, bouncing up and down harder, digging her nails into his chest.

“Reagan, I can’t-“ Demoman stopped to moan as her insides clamped down on him. His cock throbbed, pulsing with his release. He gripped her arms, vaguely aware that she was groaning his name. “Yeah, come on my cock, Reagan,” he bit out, his voice rough.

She whimpered and her inner walls throbbed and fluttered around him, drawing out his orgasm. She dropped her head to his chest to catch her breath, resting on her elbows. He wrapped his arms around the shivering body, trying not to moan as the passage still encasing his cock twitched around him.

“Ooh, damn,” he whispered.

“Fuck yes,” she said, bringing her lips up to his neck, cheek and then claiming his mouth.

…

Soldier and Spy had lunch in a small café, talking about whatever was on their minds when Spy wasn’t chatting up the waitress.

“I think I’d like some company myself tonight,” Soldier said, watching the waitress saunter away.

“Is that so? Then maybe a visit to the local ‘watering hole’ is in order this evening.”

Spy paid the bill, turning Soldier down when his money was offered. He left the pretty waitress a handsome tip and a dashing smile. He promised to return and the two set off.

Spy cocked his head to the side when he saw two familiar figures by his car.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Demoman jerked her head up from the inspection of his car. “This is _your_ car?!” she gasped.

“Why, yes,” he said, “Yes, it is.”

“A sixty-eight Chevelle,” she said with a hint of wonder. “I would not figure you the muscle car type!”

“Consider it a mid-life crisis,” Spy joked. He looked over at the Heavy, who was standing by, amused by the blonde’s enthusiasm. “As much as I’d love to show her off, we have places to be,” he said, unlocking it and getting in. Soldier got in the passenger seat. “ _Au revoir_!” he said before starting the engine.

“Wow,” she breathed, watching the car pull away. Heavy chuckled.

…

“Mark?” Ace asked from the doorway, his mask pulled up enough for his speech to be clear. “Am I, um, am I allowed in here right now?”

Mark looked up from his paperwork. After a moment, he smiled. “Of course you are, Ace,” the blonde said. “Come in.”

“I wanted to apologize.” He shuffled in and shut the door behind him.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do. I insulted your religion, and I’m sorry. I read your journal, too.” Ace sat in the chair across from Mark and folded his hands in his lap.

“I’m not insulted, and I thought about that. I’ve decided to turn the whole book over to you and let you read the whole thing, if you’d like.”

Ace gaped at Mark.

“Only if you want to.” Mark gave a sad smile.

“I’d be honored,” Pyro gasped.

Mark moved aside a few papers and picked up the leather-bound book, holding it out to Ace. The other pulled his mask off so he could see and shucked off his gloves before taking the journal carefully.

“This way you’ll understand why I can’t have a relationship with you,” Medic said, his smile pained.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ace asked, cradling the journal to his chest.

“Of course.”

“Do you want a relationship?”

Mark looked up again, his pen stilling. He sighed and set the pen down. He took off his glasses.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Mark rubbed his finger in the corner of his eye, façade breaking down.

“Why can’t we just have a relationship without sex? It’s the sex that makes it bad, right? I don’t need sex,” Ace said, his shoulders shaking. “I just want to hug you and be able to say that I love you!” Ace shivered after he threw the words out there.

Mark blinked, his building tears stopping at his sudden confusion.

“Wow, I really just said that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Mark wasn’t sure what to say after that.

“Um, well, I’m just going to go now.” Ace stood awkwardly. “I, uh, have some reading to do.” He gently shook the book.

“Wait,” Mark said. “I have one more thing to write.” He held his hand out. Ace turned the book over and watched as mark scribbled something down on the first blank page. He handed the book back with a broken smile.

…

Spy and Soldier found themselves at a bar, laughing over each other’s jokes, listening to a live singer. Girls came and went from their table, casting flirtatious glances, biting nails, carrying drinks and smoking cigarettes.

A blonde with tight curls and a dangerous little smile took a liking to Soldier, complimenting him on his muscular arms and sliding into a seat next to him. She hung off her arm as he talked to Spy.

She whispered in his ear giggled.

“She has a room, I’ll be back later,” Ken said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Spy smirked and waved him on, pretending to watch the singer as he watched them leave out of the corner of his eye.

The hotel was a short walk, made longer by the slightly tipsy blonde pulling at him all the way.

Once in her room, she threw her purse on the table and turned to him with a sly grin. She slipped one of the straps of her white dress off her shoulder, bringing the shoulder up, smiling shyly into it.

“Don’t go getting shy on me now, sweetheart,” he said, reaching out for her.

She pulled away and ran around to the other side of the bed, kicking off her shoes in the process. He climbed over the bed to follow, but she stopped him with her hands on his cheeks.

“How about we get kinky?” she asked.

“I like that idea. What do you have in mind?”

“These,” she said, opening the drawer of the bedside stand, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

“I could get into that,” he said with a smirk.

She grinned and wiggled her finger, suggesting he get on his back. He did so, putting his arms back and she straddled him. She blinked rapidly and started laughing when she realized his wrists were too big for the cuffs.

“Aw, man. You still wanna mess around, right? It’s not like you can only enjoy it when your man’s tied up, is it?” He licked his teeth and smiled.

“I prefer my men tied down, but,” she trailed a finger down his neck and pressed her breasts together with her arms, “I think I can make an exception this once. Take your shirt off, then lay back and let me do all the work.” She sat back and watched him pull the white fabric over his head. She bit her lip, watching his muscles flex.

She felt his pecs when he reclined, running fingertips over the contours, pawing him all the way down to his jeans, unbuttoning the fly. Her jaw dropped when his cock sprang free.

“Damn, you’re big everywhere!” she gasped. She stroked him a few times, worrying her lip.

“Ya look a bit concerned, there. If you don’t think you can handle it all-“

“No, I can handle it,” she said, standing up. She pulled off her panties, leaving her dress on. She pulled the top down to expose her breasts; perky little things with small, round, pink nipples. Soldier smiled as she climbed back on him, hiking up her skirt and positioning him over his weeping shaft.

When she sat down on it, his hand instinctively sought out her thighs, but she grabbed his wrists and shoved them back up by his head. His cock throbbed inside her and she moaned out a curse.

“Oh, you like dominant women, do you?” she asked, grinding, grimacing at the nearly painful stretch.

“Yes,” Soldier breathed, rocking his hips. As she bounced on his cock, he admired her figure, her hair. Everything about her was youthful, springy. Even when her voice deepened from pure, unhidden pleasure, he was still amazed by her strength and femininity.

“Yeah,” she growled out, swiveling her hips, his cock in a tight, wet vice-grip. Long lashes fluttered as she cried out her orgasm. She kept bobbing, desperately, cussing and whimpering as a second orgasm tore through her. A few more wiggles of her hips and he voices his predicament. She reluctantly pulled off of him and took his cock in hand, stroking him to completion on himself. She licked her lips and pulled back.

 “Damn, that was good,” Soldier said, reclining blissfully.

“It was the best I’ve had in a while. But, if you could do me a favor and hand over all your cash, that’d be great.”

“What?” Soldier asked, opening his eyes and sitting up only to find a tiny handgun trained on him. “You really want me to rob me after that?”

“Ya know, I actually never intended to fuck you, but you’re just so… unf.” She bit her lip. “Empty your pockets.”

Soldier stood and tucked himself away, taking his wallet out and holding it up. The door opened and the girl spun around, gun trained on the figure in the doorway. Spy smiled, his own gun trained on the young woman.

“Put your wallet back in your pocket, Soldier.”

“Don’t!” the blonde said, spinning back toward him.

“Uh,” Soldier said, looking confused and slightly amused.

“Do us a favor and put your panties back on. I can smell you from here,” Spy said, his nose wrinkling behind the mask. He took a step closer.

“I’ll shoot you,” she warned.

“No you won’t,” Spy said, reaching out and taking her gun. The shock that someone just reached out for her gun led to her releasing it. She cursed and grabbed her undergarments from the floor. “Soldier, shall we?”

“Uh, yeah.”

…

“So,” Caelan started as Scout sat in the back, happily munching on his newly-acquired tacos, “why did you get so upset earlier?”

“Y’mean when I ind’rectly got called a pedophile?” Andy asked, a bitter edge to his voice.

“Man, nobody called you a pedo.”

“It was insinuated, and I don’t take too kindly to it.”

“You been called that b’fore?”

Andy chanced a glance over his shoulder to find Scout dozing with a half-eaten taco in hand.

“Look, mate, people say ‘orrible things about gay people to further demonize them. As if there ain’t enough of a stigma.” Andy sighed. “I’m sorry I got mad at you two, but yes, yes I ‘ave been called that and it pisses me off.”

“Did you kill ‘em?” Caelan asked.

“Wot?” Andy furrowed his brow.

“Did you kill whoever called you a pedo?”

“’A course not. What good would it do?” he sighed. “I’m,” he grunted and sighed again, “It would have been obvious that I was the killer, okay? I’m not stupid. I, uh, spent a couple’a years in Darlo between hunts and shacked with a young bloke from the area. Now, there weren’t many beatings there, but,” he stopped to scratch his brow. “It still wasn’t exactly ‘gay friendly.’ The neighborhood didn’t take too kindly ta a thirty-something bein’ with a barely-legal young man. I still think about it, even if it was nearly ten years ago.” When he finished speaking, his lips set in a hard line and he watched the road with a troubled expression.

“Yeah,” Caelan breathed, running his fingers through his hair. “My parents used to throw holy water in my face or hit me with their Bible when I said something even remotely ‘gay’.” He stopped to chuckle darkly. “After a while I started hissin’ and growlin’ at them. Sometimes I even scratched up my own face jus’ to fuck with ‘em.”

“’At don’t sound healthy,” Sniper said with a snort.

“Probably not, but it was funny. Sometimes.”

“’N’ ‘ow’d your sister handle that?”

“Oh god, she was always on my case! ‘Caelan, stop it! Caelan, dad is going to beat you with a shoe again! Caelan, mom has the rosary out’,” he said, flailing his hands.

“I didn’t understand a lick of that, but I guess it’s bad?”

“Nah, just annoying. She was the angel on my shoulder most of the time. Does anyone in your family know you’re gay?”

“Keep your voice down, Scoot’s in the back.”

“Man, he’s out cold!”

“But, naw. No one knows, and I intend to keep it that way.”

“So, yer not taking me home to your mum and dad?” Caelan teased.

“Hell no,” Sniper said with a chuckle.

…

That evening, another bonfire was held. The gathering was much smaller this time, the festivities consisting mainly of the BLU Soldier taking bets on who could beat the female Demoman in an arm wrestling match as Heavy watched with an amused smirk.

“’Ey, Demo,” Ken said, holding his wrist after their match. “You ever been mistaken for a man?”

“No, have you?” she quipped, a wicked grin displaying her broken tooth.

Spy leaned over Ken’s shoulder; “as Scout would say: you walked into that one.”

After the fire burned out, they headed back to their bases. Alexei pulled Kristina aside and boxed her slightly smaller frame in, with his massive arms, against a wall.

“Did you have good time today?” he asked.

“Y-yah,” she stuttered.

“Can end with goodnight kiss?”

“Uh,” She started to fidget, hunching her shoulders, “Can we start with hugs?”

“Sure,” he said, drawing her into an embrace she returned awkwardly. When she felt the moment had gone on a bit too long, she patted his back awkwardly and he laughed. “Goodnight, Kristina,” he said, ruffling her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> JOLT: Yup, another shitty OC story. No, I won't be offended if you stop reading now. But if you like what you've read so far and you want to read more, click below and leave me a review. Also, don't be afraid to leave criticism. Seriously folks. I love reading positive reviews, but purely positive comments don't really help me improve. Ja ne.
> 
> BB: So here we are again. It’s been awhile. Anyway, yes, we need reviews. Good and bad is motivation, of course we still hope you enjoy this fic and don’t just see it as another shitty OC story, as the author said. Until next time.


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